


Beware of Goblins Bearing Gifts

by Darespireka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Crossover, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Goblins, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Mildly Dubious Consent, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Possessive Behavior, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 46,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26314735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darespireka/pseuds/Darespireka
Summary: Five years after Voldemort's defeat, an ancient ritual is being pushed by the Ministry as the answer to the decline of magical births. Hermione's protests fall on deaf ears, including her own best friend's. With young James Potter showing zero signs of magical ability, the Potters were willing to volunteer their three-year-old child as the ritual's conduit. Hermione leaves, unwilling to bear witness to the coming days.Four years later, Hermione makes her way back to Britain alongside a new friend. The two would soon find themselves wishing they had stayed away.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Jareth/Sarah Williams
Comments: 56
Kudos: 223





	1. A Cassandra's Warning

“This is _insane_ ,” Hermione argued. “I get that the rise in squibs is a serious concern. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't. But this isn't the answer! It's _dangerous_! We're talking about opening the gates to something that Merlin himself worked to close!”

Minister Kingsley sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ward off his impending migraine. The task-force he had assembled two years ago to determine the cause of an astronomical rise of squib births had finally agreed on a possible solution to their crisis. All except for a single holdout—one Hermione Granger.

“That's merely your theory Unspeakable Granger,” Unspeakable Rivers sneered, “The ritual could possibly be from that time era, but there's nothing solidly linking it to Merlin or the Gates of Avalon. It only speaks of a druid who separated the planes of magic into two levels of existence to safeguard his people."

"Are you suggesting just _any_ druid could have had the kind of magic to pull something of that magnitude off then?" Hermione scoffed.

Rivers ignored her and continued, " _This_ ritual was recorded to re-merge them once the danger had passed. Considering how peaceful it's been since the war's end, there's never been a better time." Several other Unspeakables murmured their agreement. The Auror department had been hemorrhaging employees over the years because there simply wasn't enough trouble to go around to justify their payroll numbers.

Bolstered by this, Rivers plowed onward, "We have gone over the wording with a fine-tooth comb. Whatever the druid did was technically unnatural. All we would be doing is reinstating the natural order of things. More importantly, it references a source of wild magic that was locked away in the process—magic that could very well fix our troubles.”

It had taken the Unspeakables team four months to determine squibs were being born because the level of ambient magic in the greater U.K. area was at a record low. It barely registered on their instruments even in a room full of witches and wizards. Many experimental treatments were conducted in the months that followed, but not even actively channeling magic on a pregnant witch's womb for the full gestation period had been enough to nurture magic to take root within the fetus.

The group agreed they needed a spark to revitalize the magic in the land itself. Even Hermione believed this ritual would unleash the amount of energy they needed. She just couldn't justify the unknown cost and danger. What if the new magic came with a threat that killed off all of their children. What would be the point then?

So Hermione fixed a glare at her colleague and tried once again to make him seen reason, "The druid must have done it for a reason—a reason that none of us have any clue of aside from some vague descriptions of creatures who revel in chaos. Are you really going to risk that? What of the peace you speak so fondly of?"

Rivers opened his mouth to retort, but Hermione steamrolled on, "You speak of an untapped source of magic, but it's been ages. The magic could have mutated, been made incompatible with our own. Obviously this ritual was written up in theory only—if things go wrong, what of the consequences? The magical backlash? Who is going to carry that burden? The _child_?”

Unspeakable Townsend responded callously, “The child would be lucky to even take part in this in the first place. They've already been tested as a squib. This may be their only chance at ever becoming a wizard or witch. Even if an _unfortunate accident_ occurs, he or she could die happy knowing they'd at least contributed to our continued prosperity.”

Hermione took a deep breath and then another when the first did absolutely nothing to quell her fury. “The child needs to be under five years old. I sincerely doubt he or she will know what they are signing up for or care very much about our 'continued prosperity'. Either way, that doesn't invalid my concerns. What if we end up releasing something we're not capable of handling? Our peace was hard-earned and I'm sure everyone in this room would be hard-pressed to lose it so soon. Magic like this would come at some kind of cost. Possibly a huge one. Who's going to pay it?”

Unspeakable Evans jumped in to put in his own two knuts, "I'm not worried about the cost. Not when the ritual is so simple. All it requires is a child to act as a conduit and thirteen witches or wizards to channel the words and power. If it truly does end up unleashing something from the depths of the universe, I think we've advanced enough as a society to either contain it or to lock it away again with little hassle."

A few other heads, including Rivers, nodded along with the assessment.

Her supervisor, Unspeakable Wendell, placed a pacifying hand on Hermione's shoulder. She tried once again to convince Hermione that this was worth the risk, “Last year, only two children were recorded with any magical capacity. The other twelve were all found to be squibs. On top of that, we've lost so many of our people to the wars. At this rate, the British community will cease to exist within a few decades. We have to do _something_. The other nations don't care and blame us for having fostered too many Dark Lords in recent times. No one wants to emigrate here no matter what incentive we put out. If anything, we've been losing numbers to other nations. We have no other recourse. Please Hermione, it's either this or the end of Wizarding Britain. Whatever the cost, we as a people will bear it together as we always have.”

Hermione burst, “ _You can't know that!_ Witches and wizards can live twice as long as normal muggles. Not to mention children between magicals and non-magicals have just as high of a chance of being born with magic as those born of two magical parents! Isn't it better to give it more time, more research? We've only uncovered the ritual last year. Surely it's worth—“

Unspeakable Underhill cut her off, “You might be young enough to wait for some indeterminable time but the rest of the British community can't. We've already exhausted all our sources regarding the original inscription. What we found is all we have to go on.”

“That's not true! If you could just give me permission to speak with the Goblins again—“

This time it was Kingsley that cut Hermione off. “I'm sorry Hermione. But the Goblins simply refuse to work with you. Not with the fiasco around the Lestrange vault break-in.” Hermione bit her lip until it bled at the reminder that the Goblins still held her responsible for a theft that had been _entirely_ necessary for the safety of their world. “Their delegates say we should be thankful they even handed over the tablet in the first place.”

“Then find someone else they will talk to! They have to know more. Why else would they have kept it for so long?”

He sighed, “Enough Hermione. The Goblins are their own nation, thanks in part to _your_ previous lobbying need I remind you.” Hermione could have screamed in her frustration. That particular fact was a sore point for the already incensed witch. Bloody Goblins had only worked with her when it had benefited them. The whole experience drove Hermione away from the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and into the Department of Mysteries.

For Kingsley to mention it, Hermione knew right then and there that she had lost the fight.

Kingsley continued, “For the sake of our future, I motion moving forward with the ritual. Release the news and start the necessary preparations. I will take charge of choosing the child.”

Hermione handed in her resignation that same day.

* * *

“Is it done Hogswart?”

“It's _Hoggle_!”

“It's whatever I declare it to be _Hogwash_. I thought I corrected these insolent manners ages ago... or do you need another trip to the Bog?”

Hoggle blanched and immediately groveled, “N-no pl-please, my sincerest apologizes Your Majesty. I forgot myself. It won't happen again I swear.” He still flinched, waiting for the sensation that heralded being whisked away into his nightmares.

“Well?” the impatient King prompted instead.

The dwarf straightened up and reported, “Yes, Your Majesty. It is done. Ragnok has reported the Above enclave has finally ruled to move forward with the ritual. He'll send word with a more formal date once it's decided as their government intends to make a show of it.”

“Excellent. I suppose we best be packing then.” A satisfied smile split across the King's face. He waved his hand lackadaisically and the dwarf was sent off to the Bog of Eternal Nightmares.

The Fae flicked his wrist and two perfect crystal balls started to juggle themselves above his open hand. A moment later, one shattered into dust and the other was cradled fully in his palm.

“It won't be long now precious.” His smile turned a little cruel as he peered into the smooth glass to track a dark-haired young woman in its depths.


	2. Harry Potter and His Squib Son

“Harry please don't do this,” Hermione begged. “I was there. I did all the research that I could. It's not safe! Just think of James!”

“I AM thinking of James! Am I supposed to just stand there and accept my child is going to be a squib for the rest of his life?! When I could fix it?” Harry shouted.

“Yes,” Hermione whispered, “Being a squib isn't the end of the world. I thought you of all people would have understood that. The muggle world isn't some backward society where he would have no future.”

“It's not a future I want for my child Hermione! For any child!”

“Is that really what you think? Or is that just you parroting Ginny?” Hermione criticized.

Harry growled in frustration. “Leave Ginny out of this. We might have some—OK a lot of—differences right now but we're united in this. If the ritual works and James gets his magic, it'll be worth it. Not to mention Kingsley himself was the one to offer this chance to me—to us. I won't be able to look James in the eye if I don't take it.”

“It could have been any child under the age of five,” Hermione choked out, “Kingsley choose you and James so his people could spin it to look good to the public. Once again the Boy-Who-Lived steps up to save us all.”

Harry said nothing. It was clear he already knew that.

“Please Harry! Stop listening to other people and just follow your goddamn gut!”

“Don't you think that's just a little too ironic considering you've just spent this entire evening trying to convince me to listen to _you?_ ”

Hermione screamed irately, “Harry!”

“I think it's time you left Hermione,” Harry grounded out as he strode towards his front door with Hermione still at his heels.

“ _Please just listen_. When have I ever steered you wrong?”

Harry ignored her, “Ginny will be back soon. You know how she gets when she finds us alone.”

“ _Fuck Ginny!_ ” Hermione screamed, “She's barely home more than one day out of every month! I've been here with you and James more often than she has ever been! For Merlin's sake, I caught James calling me Mum the other day!”

Harry's face shuttered completely, “ _Enough!_ I love Ginny, not you Hermione! She's my wife and James's mother!” Both his unspoken words and the door he swung open were like daggers to the heart.

Hermione's face reflected the utter devastation his words wrought. Not willing to let Harry see the sheen of tears that would soon spill down her cheeks, she swerved away and stalked out the door, slamming it in his face. Once she was past the ward lines, she apparated away into the night.

* * *

Harry burrowed his face into his hands after Hermione left.

“ _Fuck,_ ” was the only word ringing in his mind. Harry slid down against the door and thunked his head against it.

He knew he screwed up. Hermione hadn't deserved any of that. She had every right to call out Ginny's absences. Every right to demand a say over the kid she had all but called her own for the last three years.

Harry had married Ginny pretty much right after the Final Battle despite having been apart since the end of Sixth Year. The youngest Weasley seemed happy enough to go along with it. Life had been looking up at the time and Harry had felt like he was on top of the world. Voldemort was finally dead. His friends were alive. He had just received an employment offer from the Auror department and Ginny had clinched a position as Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies. The youngest Weasley had opted out of returning for her Seventh Year of Hogwarts for the opportunity.

The entire Wizarding world celebrated their nuptials. Those first few months after the war had ended had been some of the happiest Harry had ever had.

Then Ginny got pregnant. His young wife had been reluctant to keep it. Not when she had only been playing professionally for less than a year.

But Harry worked hard to persuade her to keep the baby—he offered to quit to be a full-time dad so she could go back to Quidditch whenever and for however long she wanted to. He was wealthy enough and the Auror Department had been downsizing anyway due to the dwindling number of cases. Two consecutive Dark Lords and decades of terror seemed to have finally drilled the lesson home for the remaining populace. When Ginny finally acquiesced, Harry handed in his resignation with relish. He'd been nothing more than a glorified paper pusher by the end of short-lived career.

It was Harry's mistake to assume Ginny would stay home with him to help care for their newborn. His wife all but fled back to the team once the Healer cleared her for action. The ambitious Chaser started to spend even more and more time away for her games and training as if Harry's decision to stay home gave her a free pass from parenthood.

So instead of muddling through fatherhood with his wife, he muddled through it with Hermione. Ron was also there to play the doting uncle for about a month before he accepted his dream position as the Keeper for the Chudley Cannons. Then he too was away a large majority of the time. Hermione, however, was quick to point out Uncle Ron at least made the effort to stop by to stay hello whenever he could get away.

Harry didn't blame James for mistaking (or even wishing) Hermione was his mother. Harry knew exactly how many times the little boy had seen his real mother in the last three years because he kept count. Hermione, on the other hand, all but lived in their guest bedroom when she wasn't buried in the bowels of the Ministry for her job.

He knew his wife and Hermione didn't get along. Something happened in the summer right around the First Anniversary of the war that made his best friend swear off hanging out with Ginny. Harry tried asking both witches about it, but neither would tell him any details. The closest Harry got to an answer was from Hermione: she told him that they had quarreled over some of Ginny's life decisions, but that it was resolved. She just didn't agree with how it was resolved and didn't wish to make any waves if she accidentally brought it up again. She told him it would be too toxic for the both of them.

Things nearly came to a head anyway when Ginny practically demanded a divorce the moment James tested negative for magic at three-years-old. The heartless witch had wanted Harry to put their baby up for Muggle adoption so he could have a 'normal' life. In a fit of rage, she blamed Harry for James's lack of magic, claiming that if he hadn't pressured her into keeping the baby, they wouldn't have to face the shame of having birthed a squib. So it was either he went or she went.

The decision should have been easy—was easy, but the harpy stormed off again before Harry could properly blow up. By then, James had gotten into the room and was wondering why his Mum hadn't even said hello. Harry deflated. He didn't hear from her for nearly three months (a new record) because he was too much of a coward to confront his fractured marriage. To explain to his three-year-old son that his Mum didn't want him because James didn't have magic.

He put it off by having the papers written up and by telling himself he'd throw them in her face the moment Ginny deigned to show back up at the Cottage.

Except she came back with Kingsley's proposal in hand and apologies aplenty. In that moment, Harry was struck with just how young the both of them were. Ginny was barely 22 and him, 23. So he listened and gave her a second chance. If only for James. It wasn't until after she left again that he realized that while her apologies had rung true, she had still essentially guilt-tripped him into agreeing to a ritual that could harm their son. She pressed Harry into considering how important this ritual would be for James, for them, and for the world.

He fell for it hook, line, and sinker like the sucker he was. But it was too late, he had already given his word to Kingsley that he'd help.

He tried to justify it to himself in the aftermath. That this was his last-ditch effort to save his marriage. To save his family.

But now that his defensive anger was no longer blinding him, he worried he had only managed to shatter it beyond repair. Hermione's concerns were legitimate (as they always were). He could only hope furtively that they weren't as dire as the witch had painted them out to be.

A little boy clamored up onto Harry's lap. “Where's My-me?” Hermione only tolerated the nickname from James. Whenever Harry or Ron attempted to use it, they were greeted with several creative hexes.

“I don't know James,” Harry asked, “...but I don't think she's going to be coming around for a while.”

The black-haired, brown-eyed boy could tell his father was sad and gave him a hug. “Daddy was being stupid to My-me again?”

“Yeah bud. I'm the biggest idiot in the world. Pray you don't grow up to be like me,” Harry admitted. His baby reached up as far as he could go to pat him on the head as Hermione was oft to do. The small hands could only reach as far as his temple but the boy made do.

Harry did his best to convince himself that everything was going to work out. That even if his marriage with Ginny finally keeled over (as it should have ages ago), then at least James would have magic and would be able to go on to experience everything the Wizarding World had to offer. His son came first.

So he ignored the tightening of his gut that screamed at him to go after Hermione right away. To break his word regardless of the consequences, divorce Ginny, and finally confess his feelings to the only woman who had stood by him all these years.

Harry would regret not listening to his instincts every single day in the years that followed.


	3. Converging Paths

Hermione hugged Sarah, exchanging heartfelt congratulations with the young Muggle. Today, they were both graduates with newly minted degrees. It had only ever been on Hermione's bucket list in the past. The young witch was both happy and disbelieving even as she held the paper in her hand.

Four years ago, she had fled Godric's Hollow with no plan. The only thing on her mind was that Harry had stomped all over both her heart _and_ concerns, and that her home was about to be changed forevermore. She couldn't bear to stick around to watch it all burn. Not again.

So she impulsively cleared her flat and bought the next portkey to the States. There she told the MACUSA that she was planning to stay to do some personal research, and took an oath to prove she was no longer affiliated with the British Ministry. Luckily, her reputation preceded her and the American embassy welcomed the witch without too many additional questions. They were more than happy to steal the muggle-born from the continent.

The runaway witch had since been masquerading as a foreign student named Hermione J. Williams, residing in the relative anonymity of some quaint upper New York State town.

Within the first week of her stay, sadness had given way to anger. She wrote to Ron but the redhead could only offer to personally punch Harry in the face later. He was stuck in Ireland for the Quidditch World Cup, bound by magical oath to stay within the training camp to ensure no mishaps happened to their star Keeper before the games were over.

Unwilling to let herself wallow for long, Hermione enrolled in the nearby college. She chose to study genetics with a small hope it might shed some light on the whole squib phenomenon. The Ministry team had discarded the suggestion previously because the majority ruled it would take too long to get one of them up to speed on the Muggle subject. Even Hermione conceded after she attempted to do so in the little free time she had.

It was a small quirk of fate to click with someone that sported the same last name (however fake it was) but was also of the same age. Sarah Williams was a fellow 23-year-old student who had just enrolled as an English major that year. The beautiful dark-haired, gray-eyed American had spent the past five years pursuing an acting career in an attempt to follow in her mother's footsteps but found the reality to be far less palatable than her childhood dreams suggested. So she finally switched tracks to explore becoming a writer, with whimsical dreams of maybe becoming a playwright one day.

The two hit it off immediately after meeting in the library while trying to borrow the same book. They quickly found they shared the same love of all things magical. Hermione's interest was more literal obviously, but Sarah had a surprising depth of knowledge in Muggle folklore, legends, and fairy tales as well as surprisingly insightful opinions that often mirrored Hermione's. Sarah eventually picked up a dual History major with Hermione's encouragement. By the end of their freshman year, the two had moved into the same apartment and cohabited seamlessly.

It surprised Hermione just how easily Sarah overlooked Hermione's everyday use of magic around the apartment. Misplaced things, randomly repaired knickknacks, and strange movements or noises did little to phase her American friend. Hermione honestly couldn't tell if it was because Sarah was a complete cynic of the unexplained or a true believer.

Either way, Sarah made Hermione's haphazardly cobbled decision a lot more bearable, Muggle or not.

* * *

“So now that we've _finally_ finished school, did you want to take a trip with me? A little post-graduation celebration before we attempt to settle down into boring adulthood?” Sarah asked impishly.

Hermione smiled wryly, “What did you have in mind?” She was in the middle of brewing herself a pot of tea. Sarah was lounging on the bar-stool behind the counter. Graduation had just happened two days ago and the two were already up to their chins in job applications. Or at least Sarah was. Hermione didn't mention she had already received three offers from reputable companies already. She tried to tell herself she was just stalling until Sarah figured out her own plans and not because Hermione had zero interest in actually becoming a geneticist.

“A trip abroad of course!” Sarah exclaimed, “I was hoping Ireland or Scotland but I don't know if that's exotic enough for you Miss English. Maybe Greece if not. Or Germany! That would be fun too.”

The thought of home caused a pang of longing in Hermione's heart. Her initial rage had dwindled away within weeks of her arrival in the States. After that, she was just saddled with homesickness. She missed England, missed Harry and James, missed Ron and their other friends, missed her work, her research... Hermione had never imagined she would one day leave Wizarding Britain and end up living as a Muggle for the rest of her life. Not even during the war. It had seemed more likely that she would die trying to earn her place as a witch than to give it up.

But after four years of living in isolation, Hermione was afraid. Afraid of what she would find if she tried to go home. Would home even be there anymore?

Would Harry and James hate her for leaving? Was James even alive? What had happened with the ritual? Had Harry even _tried_ to reach out to her? Why had none of her subsequent letters made it to Ron? Would she even be allowed to go back much less welcomed?

Hermione tried to stay apprised of the whole situation through Ron and the American wizarding newspapers. But two weeks after she arrived in the States, Ron stopped writing; her letters came back unread. She tried owling others like Luna, Neville, and even Harry and Ginny but those too came back undelivered. It worried her immensely of course, and she had even gone to the MACUSA with every intention of buying a portkey to go back home.

But there were none scheduled. The teller could only apologize and say that the British Ministry had forbidden all magical transportation going in and out of the Isle until further notice. This was a week before they announced they were going to be performing the state-backed ritual. The American Congress hadn't heard of any decision to lift it.

The last copy of the Quibbler that Hermione could get her hands on showed a picture of Kingsley, Harry, Ginny, and James announcing the ritual would proceed in two days. Behind them stood the hooded figures of the original Unspeakable team.

After that, it was radio silence. It was as if the entire magical British community had disappeared.

Hermione heard rumors of journalists and worried family members going to Britain via airplane, but as far as she could tell, they were never heard from again.

Even the Gringotts branches in the other nations were claiming that they had lost all contact with their mother branch. Hermione could smell the bullshit from here though. Not considering the ritual had come from them in the first place, the goblins had run an international banking system for centuries and had endured countless wars and magical upheaval. No doubt, the mercenary creatures were simply hiding and biding their time until whatever caused such turmoil in Wizarding Britain finally settled down so business could resume.

Eventually, the American community seemed to write off their British compatriots as a lost cause. Hermione stopped subscribing to their newspapers and found herself isolated from any magical news.

If she wanted answers, Hermione would have to risk getting them herself. Unfortunately, her schooling served as a good excuse to stay put after her attempt to get a portkey failed.

Hermione acknowledged she had become a coward since the war's end.

The pensive witch was pulled out of her thoughts when Sarah waved her hand in front of her face, “ _Hello_. Are you still there Hermione?”

“Sorry, I was just lost in thought.” She mechanically poured a cup just for herself, knowing Sarah only knew how to appreciate a strong cup of coffee.

The other girl frowned, “Hey, I'm sorry if I brought up bad memories or something. It's just you rarely talk about your life back in England. All I know is that you ran away cause someone broke your heart.”

Hermione jolted a little, “W-what?”

“Oh come on Hermione, we're both 27. Almost 28 in my case. I've seen that look on your face on my own mirror once upon a time. You're avoiding someone back home. Probably that old bestie you occasionally mention by accident. What was his name? Harold? Harvey? Harry? The one that's a Potter?”

“It's Harry...” Hermione confessed, “But it wasn't like that. He's married. Has a kid even.”

Sarah threw her hands in the air, “Not going to judge. The heart wants what the heart wants. As I said, I'm fine with somewhere farther away from the British Isles. It'd just need to be somewhere in the European peninsula.” Her words said one thing, but the glint in Sarah's eyes belied her real opinion.

“You don't have to do that and I know, I know,” Hermione groused, “I'm a grown woman who needs to put her past behind her and move on with her life. It's just complicated OK?”

“Let me help you Hermione. Talk to me. It's the least I could do after all the support you've given me these last few years.”

And Hermione had been a big help for Sarah despite the witch's protests. Part of it was financial: Sarah had been living paycheck by paycheck because she was estranged from her family—both sides as it were. Her mother had divorced her father when she was young and both sides remarried. She had lived with her father afterward and was close to her half-brother Toby for a while, but her step-mother had kicked her out the moment she turned eighteen. Neither of her real parents offered any support after that. Hermione thought it admirable how far the young woman had gotten thus far with such little means.

Hermione had also been willing to essentially act as Sarah's unpaid editor. With her help, Sarah was already a published author after her short story compilation was accepted by a major publishing house last year. It had seen moderate success in both the literary circles and among general audiences. Hermione still demurred she hadn't had much to do with it. The young Muggle already had a gift for words.

“I'll think about it. Besides, with what money are we going on vacation with anyway?” Four years of schooling and expenses had exhausted most of Hermione's savings. She'd be lucky to have enough to purchase a portkey to another city, must less a plane ticket to another continent.

“I'm glad you asked,” Sarah said cheerfully. “ _I_ just won a commission to write a short story on an old European folktale of my choice. The only stipulation was that I have to go to the source for inspiration, and it has to involve at least one historically preserved site. They're willing to pay for one week of research/vacation for me and a friend.”

Hermione frowned. It sounded far too good of a deal to be true. Who had the money to throw around like that?

Sarah shrugged when Hermione asked, “It's being funded by some international historical society that I've seen mentioned before when I was working on my thesis. Apparently, they like to wow their donors with a bi-annual magazine full of stories they commission. This year's focused on Europe so I can choose any country on the continent. Though I'd have to travel at least once to their London office to meet with a representative. Anyway, the sponsor had such an odd name which is why I remembered it.”

“What's it called?”

“Gringotts Foundation. Weird huh?”

Hermione's teacup dropped and shattered all over the floor.


	4. Home Sweet Home

Against her best judgment, Hermione soon found herself packed and on a plane with Sarah and heading off to London for a one-week all-expense-paid 'vacation'.

The witch was still leery of course. It whole thing stunk to the high moon, but she couldn't well leave it alone. Hermione would never forgive herself if Sarah got into a magical incident on her watch.

There was some veneer of legitimacy at least. A quick Google search brought up a Wikipedia page extolling the Foundation as a philanthropic arm of Gringotts Incorporated which had investments in all sorts of industries. The Foundation mainly focused on promoting the preservation of historical sites and reclaiming lost artifacts and was of course headquartered in London. This story contract wasn't their first. Like Sarah mentioned before, they had a magazine that they distributed for donors and often commissioned young writers to produce original content for it.

The whole thing was inciting. Here was clear evidence that the London branch of Gringotts had been active the entire time Wizarding Britain was on lock-down. The goblins had just let the magical community collapse while they went about their business. If she had a time tuner, Hermione would have shaken her younger, idealistic self silly until she agreed to leave the Goblin's petition for self-sovereignty rights untouched.

Unfortunately, she did not have one and could only choke down her regret. It was so bloody unfair.

Hermione also did not have enough time to visit the MACUSA to get a proper update on the Wizarding world before she was waltzed off onto her very first plane ride.

After Hermione admitted she would rather they go to Britain, Sarah had gotten too excited about the trip and had their tickets scheduled for that very afternoon. It gave Hermione whiplash with how fast it had been arranged. One call to the Foundation office and they had it all scheduled out. They would only have about four hours to pack before their cab arrived to take them to the nearest airport.

Hermione's dread and anticipation ballooned in equal measures. She thought she would have more time to ease into the idea, but Sarah had always been one to jump headfirst and regret later kind of gal.

When they finally landed at Heathrow International at midnight, Hermione started to feel out of sorts. Magical out-of-sorts that was. She hoped it was just jet lag. A ten-minute port-key was infinitely more preferable to a long seven and half hour flight. As the sights of a familiar city blurred past her and the black cab they had flagged down, Hermione was plagued by a sense of unease instead of nostalgia and relief of finally being home.

 _“This was a bad idea_ ,” was Hermione's prevailing thought even as they checked into a lovely hotel in the heart of London.

It proved to be true moments later when Hermione heard a loud pop that she automatically associated with apparition.

Hermione jumped both physically and magically in response. Her magic swelled out of control, exploding outward in a burst of raw energy. It blew out the lights, cracked the TV screen, upended the furniture, and scattered various linens and pillows, their seams bursting open and covering the room in white fluff.

Sarah screamed.

Hermione's wand whipped out of its invisible holster and the witch froze the entire room. Terrified eyes greeted her own wary ones, her innocent muggle friend clutching onto the remnants of what had been a newly opened bottle of champagne. Sarah was covered in alcohol, glass shards, and bloody cuts.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry Sarah,” Hermione cried out at the sight. Immediately, the witch started to wave her wand and shot off spell after spell. She vanished the glass and liquid from Sarah's still frozen form before working on healing her various cuts while fixing her clothing. Thank Merlin, she hadn't ended up doing worse damage. Then she focused on the room and struggled to re-arrange the entire thing back to its previous pristine form. Her magic fought her for a while, making the whole endeavor take twice as long.

She levitated a chair under Sarah to catch the shell-shocked woman before Hermione finally released the _Immobulus_ she had cast initially.

Sarah slumped down into it immediately. “H-How? W-wah? What just happened?”

Hermione bit her lip. She was feeling drained and her magic felt sluggish when she called upon it. She didn't want to risk a blotched _Obliviate_. “I'm a witch,” she blurted out instead.

Sarah stared at her.

“The reason why I've been so reluctant to tell you about my life in Britain is that I attended a magical school called Hogwarts for seven years instead of regular Muggle—that is non-magical—school. All my friends are witches and wizards too, but my parents weren't. But I did make them forget they ever had a daughter... which is why I never mentioned them much either.”

“ _Holy shit_ ,” was Sarah's only response, “Was that why you left then? Your parents?”

“...No, that happened a long time ago and I made my peace with it. You weren't entirely wrong. I did leave because of Harry. Whose a wizard obviously. But not just because he broke my heart, but because our secret government decided to go ahead with a really dangerous plan that I explicitly advised against.”

“Weren't you only... what 22? 23? You were involved with the government already?!”

“In our society, we're considered adults after we graduate our seven-year institutions—we don't have higher education, just apprenticeships for those who wish to earn a Mastery in a specific subject. Most just go straight into the workforce. I was 18 when I was first sworn into my position. I was a government official for five years before I left.” Hermione avoided mentioning the war or her part in it. It was too long and too painful of a story to get into at 2 AM in the morning.

“That makes so much sense and yet so little at the same time. I have so many questions but I think... I think I need sleep _way_ more than an explanation right now. Sorry about the champagne. Whoever delivered it must have shaken it up and I was lucky the stupid cork didn't take out an eye.” Sarah pulled herself up and inspected her clothes, “Not a single mark, this is amazing. I can't believe you managed to hide your magic from me for four years!”

“I still used it often. You just... brushed off the results with logic or blamed it on your own forgetfulness. Which isn't rare. It's why our kind has it so easy in recent times. No witch-hunting incidents because everyone rationalizes the unexpected.”

“I don't know if I should be offended or not,” Sarah yawned. “I'm beat though. A seven-hour flight is nothing to laugh at. Can we talk more in the morning? When my brain's awake enough to process this?” She flapped her hand in the air dramatically. “Just remind me this wasn't a dream, please. I don't want to miss out on finding out magic actually exists!”

Hermione laughed, “Sure Sarah.”

* * *

Harry sighed as another stack of parchment appeared on his desk. He was seated in what used to be the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts.

It was days like this that he missed being the Boy-Who-Lived. Sure it sucked to have a megalomaniac coming after him every year, but at least he hadn't been bored. There was excitement and adventure in spades back then. Now his life was literally just filled with endless paperwork with the occasional jaunt to the bank.

His head lifted from the latest contract in his pile when a familiar drawl filled the room, “Try to look a little more alive Harry. If I had wanted to crown a ghost, I would have done it a long time ago.”

Harry dared to throw a glare at the intruder. “Oh fuck off Your Majesty. I don't have time to even feel the sun on my face when your damn Goblins keep piling on the parchment at all hours of the day.”

“You mean _your_ Goblins. You did agree to be their King; just make them listen. I find a good punt through a window usually works,” Jareth advised with a sharp smile. “As it happens, I think it's time you made another round through the Three Paths. Tomorrow to be precise. There's a little present I've arranged. A boon for your good work.”

Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion. If there was anything he had learned in the last four years it was that nothing ever came without a price. Especially not from this particular devil incarnate.

The first time the immortal Fae had bestowed him a 'present', it had been an old creature called the Wiseman who had supposedly stood as Jareth's own advisor for many years ago. A fitting coronation gift was how Jareth described it. What Harry actually got was a never-ending headache and a talking hat that wouldn't stop yapping. The old creature who wore the hat slept 23 of the 24 hours of the day and when he was awake, he would sprout off idioms like they were going out of season. Harry eventually chucked him and the hat into an old History classroom to keep Binns company.

The second time Jareth deigned to offer a gift, Harry didn't think twice before accepting it—not that he would have been really able to refuse. He spent a painful number of hours regretting it as one Ginny Weasley continuously screamed in glass-shattering decibels about what she would do to him once she got out of his 'stupid little maze'. While it had been satisfying to finally trap his ex-wife within the Bog of Eternal Nightmares, Harry had not appreciated finding out he had to endure both watching and hearing the runner for the entirety of the thirteen hours. Jareth just smirked when he complained. He advised him to invest in earplugs and copious amounts of tea or coffee. Apparently, the magical oath didn't account for the mundane solution and Harry would come to appreciate the caffeine when he found himself dozing off during a particularly dull run. If he thought his ex-wife was bad, he wouldn't enjoy experiencing the Labyrinth's idea of a wake-up call.

Harry had stared at him in disbelief and Jareth just glibbed, “Or you can try learning the legalese yourself, but I doubt your underdeveloped brain is capable of that much yet.”

The third and most recent gift was no different. Harry was handed a pretty bird in a cage that Jareth claimed was a diplomatic gift from the Light Court. He tried refusing it at first, but the snowy owl reminded him too much of Hedwig to put up much of a fuss when Jareth disappeared with a vaguely lewd smirk. He should have known then. So of course, he regretted it when he opened the cage and the owl turned out to be a Fae courtesan shapeshifter. She refused to accept the humble position of messenger bird and instead tried to climb into his bed that night despite Harry making it very clear he had no need for such services. Harry lost his patience and punted her out the window before barring her from re-entering Labyrinth grounds. Jareth grumbled about ungrateful brats afterward.

Suffice to say, Harry had very low expectations of his High King's gifting abilities.

“Considering it was only yesterday that you were complaining about how dismal my progress has been with the reopening proposals, what's the catch?”

Jareth hummed, neither acknowledging nor denying Harry's accusation. Instead, he conjured another crystal and spun it on his index finger. “No... catch. But it'll be up to you to keep the present from running away. I'm only providing the opportunity, nothing more.”

“That's awfully vague. And inconvenient. What kind of gift could possibly please me if it doesn't stay where I bloody want it to?”

“ _Why_ —the best kind of course.” Teeth flashed as the Fae's mouth split into a vicious grin.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, “I'll do the round just to stretch my legs. But I sincerely doubt I'll care for whatever it is that you're offering.”

“We'll see.” Jareth walked out of the grand study room singing wordlessly at the crystal he still held. Inside reflected the sleeping figures of Hermione Granger and Sarah Williams.


	5. A World Turned Upside Down

That morning, Hermione woke up late. By the time she opened her eyes, her fellow brunette was frantically trying to unearth the skirt she needed to complete her outfit. Sarah was supposed to be meeting a Gringotts representative to outline her proposal this morning and was probably going to be late if she didn't get a move on.

Hermione didn't think twice and simply summoned the missing article of clothing. Sarah, to her credit, also didn't blink and snatched it out of the air with a grateful thanks before pulling it on. Then she was dashing into the bathroom to touch up her makeup.

“How do I look?” she asked, doing a small twirl for Hermione to inspect. Sarah was dressed elegantly in a pressed button-up shirt and long, semi flowing skirt. Hair caught up in a loose bun, elegant silver accents glittered here and there, and black professional pumps completed the get-up.

“Perfect,” Hermione said and looked out the window, “But I would bring an umbrella just in case.” She was ever the practical one.

“Mind helping me find my way to the office? Seeing how you're a local and all.”

“I can do even better,” Hermione promised. Sarah hadn't mentioned her magic at all, but her response to Hermione's casual use made the whole revelation feel like it had happened ages ago instead of just last night.

Hermione tossed on a blouse and some jeans before shoving socks and sneakers on her feet. A freshening up charm, a quick brush of her teeth, and a few perfunctory brushes through her hair were performed before Hermione deemed herself ready for the outside world.

Sarah tossed her a thin, translucent scarf to accessorize the bland outfit Hermione had picked out. Knowing better than to argue about how utterly contradictory the piece of cloth was for a warm if overcast summer day, Hermione wrapped it loosely around her neck and resolved to take it off the moment she could get away with it.

Her friend's eyes gleamed in excitement when Hermione looped her arm around Sarah's and pulled out her wand, “Just close your eyes and don't flail,” she advised. They disappeared with a crack to reappear in an alleyway near the office address Sarah had provided.

“Holy shit, you just teleported us,” Sarah said in hushed awe. The two slipped into the bustling London street and the American immediately started to twist around to take in the sights.

Hermione's steps faltered when she spotted The Leaky Cauldron from the corner of her eye. She hadn't realized just how close the office was to the hidden pub.

Sarah gave her a considering look, “So I have no idea how long this meeting is going to take. Why don't you go say hi to some old friends while I'm out? We'll meet back up at the hotel and head out for lunch or dinner later. Then I'll pester you more about You-Know-What.”

Hermione glanced behind her distractedly and then back at her friend. “Okay. Meet you back at the hotel then.”

Sarah waved goodbye before she entered an old office building at the corner of the street.

Hermione waited until she disappeared behind the door before pivoting and heading off in the direction of the pub.

* * *

Hermione ducked briefly into the same alleyway they had appeared in to transfigure her scarf into a thin black hooded robe. Pulling the hood low so it obscured most of her face, she strode into the pub and straight to the back of it to reach the brick wall that hid Diagon Alley. No-one stopped to question her and Hermione was grateful.

She tapped the correct bricks with her wand and had to close her eyes against the unexpected light that appeared on the other side.

Before her sprawled a whole new world.

It was no longer the quaint and cramped Diagon Alley that she had once wandered to pick up school supplies. Before her was a space so big that she couldn't see where it ended, its artificial sky a perfectly cloudless blue. Her feet moved before her head could really register what she was stepping into. The wall closed up seamlessly behind her.

Hermione found herself standing in a paved plaza area. A stately fountain was situated at the center with seating benches and lampposts neatly ringing around it. It was enclosed on three sides by towering brick walls with fenced sapling trees sprouting up every couple of paces. Several large and stately fireplaces also broke up the monotony of the endless stone. It seemed like the Floo network connected directly to this space.

She watched as other cloaked figures appeared by all sorts of means—through the floo, via apparition, or by stepping through the wall itself as Hermione had just done. They all made a brisk walk past the fountain and onto one of three roads stretched out after it.

To the left, a short road was cut off by tall golden gate that extended up to what looked like a good three stories high. It was flanked by a fence of equal height made of white stone that blinded when the sunlight reflected upon it just right. Behind the gate, the stone path continued into a lush young forest with vibrant blooming flowers peeking out of the foliage. More importantly, however, were the two guards that towered in front of the gate, each standing at least twice as tall as any average wizard or witch. They were both clad in silver armor and held a spear in one hand and a shield in the other.

To the right, the stone road led to another gate which also separated what looked like a much older forest, its trees reaching up as high as the other gate had. These gates were pitch black, its fence a sumptuously decorative metal carcass. The woods that laid beyond them seemed to absorb all light before it could reach the forest floor. There were no guards for these gates. The foreboding aura alone seemed to be enough to keep most visitors away.

And then straight ahead was a much wider, mundane road bustling with activity reminiscent of the old Alleyway. It meandered upward, sloping up in a gentle hill. At its end, Hermione saw the stone dragon marking the Gringotts Bank. It loomed over all of the shops dotting the path that led up to it.

Even further than that sat a castle in the distance that reminded Hermione of Hogwarts. It was a mere smudge in the distance but she could make out the fences of the left and right paths joining into a seemingly endless hedge that fenced off the castle and its grounds.

 _Something_ had managed to blow up the hidden Diagon Alley into an outright pocket dimension.

Hermione's stomach dropped in apprehension. The amount of magic radiating from all around her had her own magic quivering. It felt like it both wanted to shrink into itself and reach out at the same time.

The witch took a deep breath and set forth along the main road. She needed information and the best place to find that would be a bookshop.

She eyed familiar shops as she passed them. There was Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, and the Magical Menagerie. To her shock, there was also the Three Broomsticks, Honeydukes, and Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. Whatever this place was seemed to have absorbed all of Hogsmeade. That or all of the shop owners decided to pick up and move. There were also a number of new shops that she did not recognize. Places like The Four Guards, False Alarms, and the Junkyard were new to Hermione.

She rushed quickly past Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, cutting off the impulse to peek inside like she had the others.

She only stopped when she finally reached Flourish & Blotts, pushing open its wooden doors to enter. Taking in the smell of aged parchment and ink, Hermione glanced around at the expanded store before she shot off up the stairs to reach the history section. Surely there'd be at least one book to explain the changes that happened in the Wizarding World.

She pulled back her hood so she could properly peruse the titles lining the shelves. But before she could so much as read the first word, the hum of noise within the store cut off abruptly. A shiver shot through her as a wave of powerful magic swept through. Hermione tensed. Had someone recognized her after all?

A quick look around showed no one within her general vicinity. The closest person to her had their back to her and was peering down towards the front door. Too curious for her own good, Hermione approached the wooden railing to see what had caught his attention.

When she looked down, she was greeted by the sight of a man who looked both familiar and unfamiliar. Hermione gasped audibly when she finally placed him, and the stranger's turned abruptly towards her. Harry's green eyes bore into her shocked brown ones.

Hermione wondered just how bad her luck had to be to stumble across the one person she had wanted to avoid in all of Britain.

* * *

Harry decided to take his walk through the Market early this morning. Well, early for him anyway. The Goblin King had been up since the crack of dawn dealing with all of his most urgent paperwork so he could skive off the rest of the day after making his rounds. Something told him he would need it to handle whatever 'reward' his Majesty had decided to bestow upon him.

He absentmindedly patted the little goblin that sat on the chair beside him. His companion scurried off at his implied dismissal.

Harry took a moment to stretch before swirling in place to appear within the Three Path Plaza. Activity around him froze for a moment as it usually did. Wizard, witch, or Fae, they all eyed the young Goblin King with trepidation. In this realm, Harry was second to only one other. Even the Court Kings had to pay their respects to him.

He ignored the masses and surveyed the space with a critical eye. He was pleased to see the groundsmen were doing their work properly. It had taken him ages to weed out the more idiotic of Underground goblins from his workforce. The space was spotless and well kept only due to those efforts.

His eye snagged on a hooded figure that had started walking down the Market Road.

Harry frowned. He could tell it was a wizard or witch. The concentration of magic in their thin wood wand gave them away. However, he could not spot any Court claim.

Such was unheard of after four years of Fae ruling. He or she was probably some daredevil that paid no heed to the warnings sent to all of the other magical nations. The Fae had been explicit when they announced other magical beings needed to stay the fuck out of Britain until they were invited officially by ambassadors in the Courts or by the High King himself. Anyone who did otherwise was fair game for any Fae that spotted them.

He stalked after the stranger. Either this was Jareth's so-called present or it was someone Harry had to eliminate. Or both.

Harry grinned a little maliciously and flared his magic to warm up. He was rather hoping for a fight—it had been far too long since he had a good duel. Fighting with Jareth didn't count. The bastard liked to cheat far too much for Harry to enjoy it.

Though people were quick to throw themselves out of his way, Harry remained a small ways behind to observe the figure ahead of them. Now that he had a good look, he observed they were rather short and slight. He suspected a witch or a child more than a wizard. Especially when they would pause and tilt their head every so often to look at the shops in almost inquisitive wonder. They walked unhurriedly through the road until they reached the Weasley joke shop. Then they picked up their pace until they were in front of Flourish & Blotts. They entered, seemingly oblivious to the King who had been tailing after them the whole time.

After he entered the store, he found his quarry missing from sight. Perhaps not so inattentive after all, Harry thought. He sighed inaudibly and merely flourished his hand to quickly lock down the entire building. Everyone in the store felt his magic. Those who were smart stopped doing what they were doing immediately. Whoever didn't would stand out like a sore thumb. More so if they tried to run.

“ _Chase indeed,_ ” Harry scoffed inwardly.

Both light and dark-aligned witches and wizards slowly came forward to present themselves to the young King as their oaths demanded. A perusal of the first-floor occupants yielded only semi-familiar faces.

An audible exhale come from the floor above. His gaze shot upward.

Only then did his bored facade crack.

It felt like a punch to the gut when he met the shocked gaze of one Hermione Jean Granger.

* * *

Hermione blinked and suddenly Harry loomed over her on the other side of the railing.

She dimly registered that he had somehow performed a wandless spell that allowed him to _fly_. The old Hermione wanted to ask him what spell it was. The new Hermione had her wand out and attempted to blast away the creature that was masquerading as her old friend.

This new Harry had put on an extra six inches of height in the last four years and Hermione felt nervous just based on the size difference alone. His hair was still in disarray, strands tousled randomly without any care. But he wore it longer and had most of it held back in a tie at the nape of his neck. His famous scar was almost completely gone save a light jagged line that was only visible at close quarters. His glasses were missing but there was no mistaking Harry's eyes or that clenched jaw. Perhaps it was because Harry was now as pale as a vampire, but the green seemed downright luminescent now. And then Hermione noticed the newly pointed ear tips.

She wasn't surprised when her spell dissipated before it got anywhere near its target.

Her wand went flying through the air and into the floating Harry's awaiting hand. It vanished from sight. He seemingly walked right through the bloody railing to stand close enough for her to feel his breath stir the curls on her forehead. Steely arms wrapped around her, dragging her flush against him. Her cheek pressed against his collarbone when it had once tucked easily next to his own cheek.

The world turned black.


	6. The Game Is Afoot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments ♥ This next chapter's a long one. Enjoy!

Sarah was having a rather peculiar first day on the continent.

First, she had woken up to the knowledge that her best friend of the last four years was a witch. Said witch, teleported her right into London and Sarah could only wonder why Hermione had ever chosen to suffer the horrible school shuttle buses back home if she could have just magicked herself to campus every time. She had a feeling her shower thoughts in the upcoming weeks were going to be interesting.

As she walked through the doors of the Foundation's office, Sarah put on her game face. As far as commissions go, this one was a bit of a dream job. She intended to put her best foot forward so they kept her in mind for future work.

But of course, she ended up tripping spectacularly when she saw what she could only describe as a goblin from the corner of her eye. Thank god she had splurged for a good portfolio case. It held closed despite the fall and she wasn't forced to scramble after loose paper. She swore she heard a giggle coming from behind her as she picked herself back up. It was only after she finished apologizing to the dour-faced, stout man who introduced himself as her liaison for the project that Sarah dared to glance behind her. She saw nothing out of the ordinary and all thoughts of improbable goblins took a back seat as she focused on her meeting.

She spent nearly two hours hashing out her idea to the representative who introduced himself as Reginald Jones. Sarah had decided to focus on folktales about boggarts and was planning on canvassing several old historical homes to see if there was any truth in the local legends regarding the mischievous spirits. As requested, two of the potential houses were registered historical sites and protected by the Foundation.

Mr. Jones merely sniffed and offered zero commentary. He remained all business, sticking to technical details only. Things like how long the story had to be, the deadlines for drafts and revisions, and other provisions regarding her stay in London. Sarah couldn't get a single additional word out of him.

She had assumed a foundation dedicated to the preservation of historical sites would have had some kind of interest in the local lore. But the man had the gall to snark back instead, “Why would I be paying you to come out here to research if I was just going to do it myself?” The pompous man all but shoved her out of his office, saying she was wasting both his time and money by just standing there yapping instead of writing. He sent her off with a slight sneer and an insincere wish of good luck.

On Sarah's way out, she cursed the rude man under her breath, “Well, _I w—_ I hope you would get that stick out of your ass too you fucking twat.” She didn't hear the sighs of disappointment echo in the room after the door clicked shut behind her. Neither did Mr. Jones.

Numerous unblinking eyes peered out of the windows to track Sarah's trek back out onto the streets of London.

Sarah meandered along the street for a while, gazing into the windows of both big chain retail stores as well as a number of quaint boutiques. She paused when she spotted an out of place pub named The Leaky Cauldron and wondered how the strange Brits entering it in long robes weren't dying of heatstroke. Sarah wasn't hungry for pub food though so she went on her way.

A few minutes later, she decided to flag down a cab to get back to the hotel directly instead of wandering longer. If she was lucky, Hermione was already back and Sarah could interrogate her about all things magic.

The first thing she planned on asking was whether goblins were real.

Sarah had never spoken of her bizarre adventure in the Underground with anyone before. As she grew older, she had buried it away as nothing more than a fever dream born out of her frustration with having to babysit her baby brother one too many times. But now, Sarah wasn't so sure.

Unfortunately, when she arrived back at the hotel room, it was still empty. Sarah looked at the clock and saw it was only one in the afternoon. Far too early to be worried, Sarah reminded herself. Instead of twiddling her thumbs, Sarah went back to work, planning out the order of places to visit over the course of the next week and tackling the framework of her short story.

Time flew by and soon it was dark out. Hermione had still not come back. Sarah's stomach grumbled and she checked her phone again. No messages or calls either.

Sarah fretted. She didn't know who she would even turn to if a witch went missing. Would the police work? But what would she tell them? Regret ate at her. She should have at least asked Hermione where she was going. She had assumed it was enough for Hermione to have her phone on her.

Her head jerked up when a tapping sound filled the room. Sarah's eyes widened at the sight of an owl pecking away at the glass door leading out to the hotel balcony. She rushed over but hesitated to open the doors. The animal reminded the former Champion of the Labyrinth a little too much of a certain barn owl that had heralded the start and end of her Underground dreams.

But her curiosity won. She rationalized that one, it wasn't a barn owl but rather a long-eared owl, and two, it had a letter attached to its leg like a messenger bird. Part of her hoped this was just a witch's chosen method of communication—she had read enough tales that it wasn't _too_ hard to imagine. Sarah would take just about any news of Hermione at this point.

She untied the letter and the owl immediately flew off. She unfurled the small scroll and saw it held nothing more than an address.

_The Leaky Cauldron, 49 Charing Cross Rd._

* * *

When Hermione finally drifted back to consciousness, she found herself face to face with a young goblin.

Or at least she thought it was a goblin. He sported the usual long, pointed beak nose and large, extended ears but there were no deep-set grooves lining his face. His hair was not just a few thin strands of grey or muddy orange and neither was it two steps short of balding. Instead, it was a rather healthy mop of black that appeared to sprout haphazardly all over his scalp. Abnormally large brown eyes peered down at her, looking like they were perpetually bugging out of their sockets. He was close enough that Hermione could almost make out small green and gold specks in them. The young goblin was lean and short, barely two feet tall—his limbs resembled little more than twigs attached to his body. When he crouched down, he looked utterly minuscule.

Hermione was a tad fascinated. She had only ever worked with adult goblins and had never seen a young goblin before.

The little intruder squeaked, half afraid and half indignant when Hermione pushed up on the bed to try to greet him properly. He scampered off the bed and was out the window before Hermione could do much more than sit up.

Then Harry opened the door and the interloper was instantly forgotten.

Hermione watched the tall wizard warily from her upright position on the opulent four-poster bed.

“How have you been Hermione?” Hermione found it both unsettling and comforting to still hear he had retained the boyish lilt in his voice.

“Better,” she replied crisply, determined to hold onto her wariness.

Harry quirked a small, sad smile. The familiar expression threw Hermione for a bit of a loop. “Still angry I assume?”

Not really, Hermione wanted to say. But a petty part of her wanted to see him squirm so she said nothing at all. Instead, she raised her chin and leveled a point-blank stare at him.

“I'm sorry Hermione. You were right of course. About the ritual,” Harry dared to sit right next to her on the bed.

He reached out and took her hand in his. Like the rest of him, his hands were different and Hermione felt a pang of loss. They were bigger, fingers longer, and he was wearing gloves for some inexplicable reason. The smooth fabric was soft if cold to the touch. Hermione missed the warmth of his skin. She tried to pull away, but his hand was like a shackle despite his light touch. He held on firmly, his thumb brushed randomly against the inner skin of her palm.

Finally unable to stand the silence, Hermione asked, “Where's James?”

His hand tightened, “Gone.”

Hermione's face fell, “What happened Harry?”

Hermione's breath hitched when the wizard conjured up a crystal ball and held it up to her. She tried to reach for it with her free hand, but Harry pulled it away with a shake of his head. He brought it back towards her and Hermione leaned in close to peer into its depths. Beside her, Harry watched as Hermione bore witness to the end of Wizarding Britain.

* * *

**- _Four Years Ago -_ **

Harry had James tucked tight in his arms as they waited tensely for the ritual to begin. Ginny had left a while ago to pace along the hallway outside after Harry scolded at her to stand still because James was getting antsy watching her fidget. Ron stood beside him trying and failing to distract James with his latest Quidditch stories. The redhead was cross with them both, but he didn't refuse when Harry asked him to be here for support.

“Daddy, Uncle Ron where's My-me? I miss her. When is she coming home?” James complained as he pulled at Harry's hair.

Harry winced as he replied, “I don't know bud.” Harry had resolved to see this through before approaching Hermione again. Otherwise, he was sure he'd lose the nerve after sitting through another Hermione lecture.

Ron had only just arrived. It had taken Kingsley's personal clout to secure a special exception from the Department of Magical Games and Sports so Ron could leave the World Cup grounds to attend the ritual. The Cup was only a week away. Upon arrival, Harry's other best friend warned him that he owed Harry two punches to the face when this was all over. One for Hermione and one for himself—Ron couldn't believe Harry had volunteered his nephew for this carnival act. Harry didn't bother trying to defend himself; he was already second-guessing himself as it was.

“Why are we here? I want to go home. This is _boring!_ ” James whined further.

Harry could feel a headache building up. He hadn't realized just how much of a handful James could be until he was alone to deal with him. Ginny might have been staying home the entirety of the last two weeks, but she was useless in the face of James's tantrums. He could only pray his little boy wouldn't dissolve into wails again. He didn't exactly have ice cream and chocolate frogs to placate him with.

He also eyed the reporters on the side with distaste. The only one he trusted was Luna who was there for the Quibbler. Kingsley had invited representatives from the press to ensure transparency with the public. It was to appease the people who followed Hermione's stance—that the ritual was too dangerous to attempt because they didn't know the risks.

Neville and Hannah had also come to Harry expressing similar concerns earlier in the week. The two were planning on having a child of their own in the near future. Harry couldn't assuage their worries and he felt utterly disappointed in himself.

It took everything in Harry to not write or apparate to Hermione for advice and comfort.

Finally, it was time. Harry shushed James and told him Daddy was going to put James to sleep for a little while so the grown-ups could do some magic. The little boy bit his cheek and asked why he couldn't watch, but Harry told him that the magic wouldn't work unless James was sleeping. He wanted to be a wizard, didn't he?

James mulled it over for a moment and nodded his head. “Can we visit My-me afterward?”

Harry promised before casting _Somnium_ over James. He laid his son carefully down in the middle of the ritual circle.

Ginny's hand grasped his clammy one when he returned back to the outer area. “It'll be OK Harry. It'll work. It has to.”

The Potters watched as thirteen hooded figures took their places along the circular ritual lines. They all had their wands out and started to chant. Pressure slowly built up in the room. Harry kept his eyes trained entirely on his son's fragile form, his other hand gripping the Elder wand in his pocket.

He hadn't told anyone about fetching it out of Dumbledore's tomb that week. Shame had flowed through him when he initially broke into his old Headmaster's resting place, but Harry focused on his son. He had wanted the assurance of every magical advantage he could get his hands on. Even now, the Cloak was underneath his robes and the Resurrection Stone in his pocket, the latter retrieved almost too easily from the Forbidden Forest.

Finally, the pressure broke. Magical backlash whipped through the entire stone room, shoving everyone backward. It knocked out everyone except for Harry. A bright light appeared, nearly blinding him if he hadn't already been on edge. When he opened his eyes back up, a tall blonde man in what could only be described as regalia stood in the middle of the room. A crown of stars graced his brow and his lean figure was cloaked in a fabric that hadn't quite decided if it was scaly or feathery. It trailed behind him impressively.

Harry tried to move towards James but found himself frozen in place. He could only watch as the stranger reached down and picked up his son. He tsk-ed lightly as he raised James up so the boy's face was level with his own. “Well, aren't you a precious babe,” he crooned. Mismatched eyes curved in delight as James blinked sleepily back to awareness. Small hands came up to scrub at his eyes.

“You're not my Dad,” the young boy frowned.

“No, but you _are_ the boon that was offered were you not? That means you're _mine_.”

Harry saw red and finally, his wand came up, a spell on his lips. But before he could get it off, the man flicked his hand and the Elder wand came flying out of Harry's grasp.

“Hmm,” the regal mage hummed as he considered the thin wood implement, “So primitive.” He snapped it in half with one hand. “So flimsy.”

Harry could only watch in detached horror as the Fae tossed the splintered pieces to the side. James squirmed unhappily in the blond's arms.

"Tell me, are you lot usually this foolish? Opening the Gates of the Underground with such... little preparation? You're lucky my goblins told me of your little attempt beforehand. You could have invited in a much worse Fae if it weren't for my meddling. Be grateful your meager magic could only open up a brief crack."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, to say something, anything, but nothing came out. He had been silenced without so much of a twitch from the being before him.

The Fae conjured a crystal ball out of nowhere and brought it up to James's face. James stared wide-eyed in fascination at what he saw within it. His hands reached up to grab it when Harry's magic swelled in warning.

“Don't touch it James!” he screamed, fighting the magical hold.

James turned and smiled, “Daddy!”

The blond drew his baby's attention back to him, “Do you like your father little one?”

“Yep,” James answered automatically, “He's the best daddy in the world!” Harry tried to stay something again but found himself silenced once more, his magic suppressed again.

“Oh? Do you know why you're here then?”

“Daddy said it would help me get my magic back. I want to be a wizard just like him and My-me! So I can go to Hogwarts and make lots of friends! And ride a broom!” James wrinkled his nose, “And...hmm who are you mister? My-me says I shouldn't talk to strangers.”

“My name is Jareth, King of the Labyrinth and of Lost Dreams. And of Goblins—though it pains me to admit it.”

“Hello, Mister Jareth. Do you mean goblins like at the bank?”

“Yes, those are mine. Nasty little creatures aren't they?” James giggled in agreement.

Jareth tapped a finger against his chin, "It would have been an admirable attempt if it had worked. Perhaps even worth the risk. Sadly, opening the Underground did not solve your little predicament. You, my dear boy, are still as magic-less as you were before." James scrunched his face again in confusion and then sadness. He still wasn't a wizard.

Harry's heart dropped. All this for nothing. Hermione was right.

Harry then found himself inches away from a looming Jareth. He could only fumble to adjust his arms when the creature deposited his son into them. “I suppose I could find it in me to be magnanimous to one who so deeply loves a child that is not his. You and the child may leave freely mortal. Just don't let me see you again.”

Harry's mouth was moving before he could even think about it, "What do you mean not mine? James is my son."

Mismatched eyes stared straight back at him, "You are not his true sire. Your blood does not run in his."

Harry felt like lightning had struck him. "T-that's not possible."

“I gain nothing by lying mortal. I'll gladly take the boy if you do not wish to keep him.” Harry immediately retreated three paces back, hands pulling his son as close as physically possible.

James fussed and wiggled until Harry loosened his hold so the boy could look at both men, "What's that mean mister?"

"It means 'Your daddy isn't your real daddy' little one.” James still looked confused and turned to look up at Harry for reassurance. Harry couldn't meet his eyes, too lost in shock.

* * *

The rest of the events rushed past in a fast-paced blur.

Hermione watched as Harry took his son and left for Godric's Hollow. He left behind Ginny, Ron, Kingsley, Luna, and the two dozen other witches and wizards who had collapsed in the ritual room without a single backward glance.

He picked up his old holly wand to lock down the cottage. He revoked everyone's right to pass the wards. The cottage was already under a Fidelius Charm with Hermione as the Secret Keeper. No witch or wizard would be able to disturb them while they remained behind those walls.

Then the scene changed back to the Ministry. It was collapsing into itself, the historic building quickly becoming nothing more than dust and rubble. Witches and wizards were streaming out of the building in droves, screaming soundlessly. Goblins rounded them up, spells absorbing into their armored forms without any effect. On the other side of the street, Muggles passed by without a single glance. Powerful magic kept them from noticing the devastation being wrought right underneath their noses.

Another shift. Hermione was looking at the plaza she had arrived at after entering from The Leaky Cauldron. Except this must have been the beginning when there was only a fountain situated in the middle. Stretched around it for as far as the eye could see was a sea of golden wheat.

Jareth stood between two polar opposite contemporaries. The Fae on his left was dressed in all white with a golden crown upon his brow. On the right was a Fae dressed in all black with a silver circlet upon his. Jareth smiled, sharp teeth flashing as he shook bare hands with both. The roads started to unfurl themselves, uprooting the wheat. Both gates magicked into existence, its fences sprouting up from the earth itself.

Small entourages of equal splendor appeared on the sides of the two Fae. The parties strode to the left and right and golden wheat made way for rapidly growing trees and plantlife. Both sides quickly disappeared from view as they walked further into their new domains. The sheer amount of effortless magic they must have been performing left Hermione reeling.

Jareth remained in the center with a finger tapping at his cheek in a very human-like manner. He walked down the middle path and the rest of the golden wheat made way for a wide paved road and regular green grass. The hedge Hermione had seen in the distance previously started to sprout and grow. However, the barricade wasn't just a fence as Hermione had assumed, but the start of a large maze. A castle shimmered into view at what she assumed was the center of the labyrinth. Jareth disappeared into the maze.

She then saw a fancy room that reminded Hermione of the inside of a cathedral with tall, gothic-styled windows covering the walls. At the front sat a raised dais where the three Fae leaders stood in a row. A huge crowd of cloaked figures was spread out in the room below them. Goblins lined the walls and filled the doorways to prevent them from leaving. One by one, the figures approached one of the Fae—always the one clothed in white or the one clothed in black. The only one permitted to approach the middle one—Jareth—was Harry. There the Fae placed a circlet of ivy and thorns on Harry's head. He took the glove off his left hand and pressed it over the circlet and against Harry's forehead. Light shone. When Jareth's hand lifted, every goblin in the vicinity bowed.

The crystal ball disappeared abruptly after that and Hermione heaved, snapping out of the magical reverie she had fallen into.

Hermione took a moment to process what she had just seen. She frowned, “So the Ministry fell. An extremely powerful magical being came through the Gates of the... Underground? This Jareth—the one that has the Goblins under his thumb—he made some kind of deal with two other Fae and their factions, giving them permission to build power bases in his new magical realm. And you found out James isn't yours and the ritual didn't work to give him magic. You also got bloody crowned?”

Harry just quirked an ambiguous smile.

Hermione rubbed her temples, “That still explains nothing Harry Potter! What happened to James? He was in the Potter Cottage, you got him out! He was _safe._ How is he gone?!”

Harry pulled her hand to his lips to press a kiss to it and Hermione just gaped at the strange response. “I'm glad to see you haven't changed a bit these past four years love.”

Hermione glared and tried again to pull her hand out of his, but Harry's grip was impossibly strong.

“James did come home with me and he was safe. For a time. I soon had him changed into a goblin. It was for the best.”

Hermione choked. Fury and disgust welled up as she made her assumptions. She had never expected Harry would do such a thing—not the man who knew what it felt like to grow up unwanted. Her other hand rose and it flew across Harry's cheek.

His head whipped to the side at the force; The pale skin finally blooming with color.

Harry merely rubbed at it with his other gloved hand. “I supposed I deserved that.” That same hand reached out and gripped her throbbing hand tightly, a silent admonishment that she would not be allowed a second hit. “Ron managed to get a Howler to me when he found out. I'm sure he too would have liked to get a hit in.” Hermione couldn't understand why he sounded so pleased about it.

“What happened to the others? To Ron? Ginny? Luna? Kingsley?” Hermione had so many questions. She'll deal with Harry after she had them.

Harry shrugged. “I didn't care to find out.” A dark look crossed his face, “After the Ministry fell, the papers had the gall to blame it on James. Not the Minister, the Unspeakables, the fucking Fae, or _me._ They blamed it on my three-year-old son because they assumed it only failed because James was _supposed_ to be a squib. It was the last paper they ever published. Diagon Alley was next to fall. I made sure of it.” Harry's lips pulled back in a sneer, revealing almost sharpened teeth that were eerily similar to the Fae's. Hermione lurched backward.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, Harry settled back down, a veneer of humanity cloaking him once more. “The last I heard, Ron, Luna, Neville and his wife were still alive. All pledged to the Light Court I believe—not surprising of course. I believe Kingsley tried to do the noble thing and mustered up a resistance to the Fae threat. Obviously, that went nowhere and I haven't seen him since. I didn't give a fuck's arse about Ginny obviously.”

He paused for a moment before continuing, “The only time I left the cottage was that first night when James asked for you again. I went to your flat only to find it completely cleared out. Your landlord said you had been gone for almost a month. Then I went back to hole up at home for two months until I ran out of food. James was with me the whole time.”

Hermione lost her patience trying to figure out where Harry was going with all of this. “So if you still loved him enough to keep him safe in the cottage, then why?! Why turn him into a goblin?! He was your son, biological or not! _How could you!_ ”

Harry's eyes constricted into slits, his grip tightening painfully. “Perhaps for the same reason why you ran away without a word. Come off your high horse _love_. You abandoned him way before I ever did.” Hermione flinched. “You could have written or floo-ed. Could have left _something_ to reassure the little boy who kept asking for his My-me to come home. Or were you planning on leaving forever? Without a word? You had disappeared without so much as a goodbye. He was far more distraught over that than when I told him Ginny was no longer his mother and wouldn't ever be welcomed back.”

“Don't you dare try to put this on me! I warned you and then you-you practically shoved me out the door. Was I just supposed to come back after that? Just watch you _ruin_ your lives?” Her pitch and volume went higher and higher.

Harry snarled soundlessly, “Yes! You should have tried harder. One fight and you just give up? The Hermione Granger I knew would have never. So what was different this time?”

“Y-You said you didn't love me!” Hermione burst, “After everything I've done for you and for James. After standing by your side for _years_. That's all I got! So sorry I didn't stick around to have my heart stomped on all over again! _Fuck you!_ ” Hermione wasn't proud that she had stooped down to using the crude American colloquialism, but found herself not regretting it one bit at the shock she elicited on Harry's face.

Harry went as still as a statue. Hermione wanted to scrub at the angry tears that had started to gather at the corner of her eyes but her hands were still caught in his.

Harry finally blinked and gave Hermione a considering look. “You loved me... You _love_ me,” he said slowly as if he was testing the words. This time it was Hermione who froze up.

“I love you,” Harry proclaimed excitedly like a child, a happy look overtaking his expression. His features were overwhelmingly flawless in its radiance. “This is perfect! I thought it'd take a lot longer to convince you to see it my way. But I suppose it's all water under the bridge now.”

Hermione's jaw dropped as Harry bulldozed away.

“You'll marry me won't you love? Don't worry, Ginny hasn't been in the picture since I left the Ministry that day. Besides marriages are only valid if they're approved by your King. I'm sure Jareth won't give me any trouble, not when he was the one who pointed me in your direction. Hmm... though I suppose I will have to make up with Ron and maybe Luna and Neville. Can't have a wedding without guests and all.”

“ _Of course I'm not going to marry you!_ ” Hermione screeched. “We haven't seen each other in _four_ years! You've made a number of questionable decisions since then and I still have _no idea_ what made you into th-this— _monster!_ ”

Harry winced and rubbed at his pointed ears. “That's hardly polite. I'm not a monster. I'm becoming Fae. _And_ I am the new King of Goblins. I would ask you to address me properly as My Lord but I know better.”

Hermione opened her mouth to scream at him some more, but found herself silenced. “Sorry love, hearing's more sensitive now. I don't think I can handle a tirade at that vocal range anymore.” Harry even pressed an apologetic kiss to her cheek. Hermione flushed red, though she would swear it was out of frustration and nothing else.

“You always needed to rationalize everything,” he said as he nuzzled the same cheek. “I suppose we can play a game. So you won't feel so bad when you finally agree.”

Hermione pulled her head back and attempted to headbutt the aggravating idiot. Her fingernails dug into his gloves in an attempt to make him let go out of pain.

Harry dodged it easily, her efforts failing to do much more than elicit a laugh. “Time in the States seems to have ruined your manners. Whatever happened to my proper and prim Hermione Granger?”

“She decided a deranged kidnapper wasn't worthy of the courtesy,” Hermione sniped.

Harry's hands finally let go of hers but her face was quickly trapped instead. One hand cupped her jaw while the other threaded through her curls to grip the nape of her neck to hold her in place.

Cold, soft lips feather across her face before they settled against her own. Hermione thinned her lips, keeping them tightly closed. The tip of his tongue traced the curve of her lip before sharp teeth nip unhappily at her chin at her refusal to reciprocate.

Harry sighed. “Fine. Have it your way love. You have thirteen hours to try to escape the Castle. If you can make it out, you'll be free to go. If you fail—,” Harry's face morphed into a challenging smirk, “You'll assent to be my future Queen.”

Hermione scowled, “That's ridiculous—“

“That's the deal. Otherwise, we will be married on the morrow. I'm sure it won't take more than a few hours to dredge up Jareth and the few required guests for your crowning.” Hermione paled.

Thirteen hours it was. She shoved at Harry and she could tell the man only moved because he allowed it. She finally got up off the bed and stared at her outfit. She hadn't realized she had been dressed in a nightgown this entire time.

“Give me back my clothes and show me the bloody door. I'm a witch, getting out of this stupid Castle will be a piece of cake.”

A wave of his hand and Hermione was back in her t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Harry smiled serenely before asking, “So you agree to my terms then? You'll have exactly thirteen hours to solve the labyrinth. You win if you make it to the Three Path Plaza before the thirteenth bell tolls. I win if the thirteen hours are up and you have not. Then you'll agree to be my Queen without protest.”

She could feel the magic in the air, waiting to bind her to her word.

She didn't exactly have a choice. She takes a steadying breath and agrees, “Yes.”

A bell rang in the distance.


	7. Goblins and Jam

Sarah squinted, trying to peer inside of the Leaky Cauldron to see if the place was open. As it were, it already felt like someone was pulling her leg with the whole mysterious letter act. But Hermione still hadn't called or texted back, and this was the only lead she had.

She tested the door and was apprehensive to find it unlocked at this early hour. Her feet brought her into the pub before she could second-guess herself. She walked up to the startled bartender behind the counter.

“Excuse me, have you seen a long curly brown-haired woman about 5'5'' come through here yesterday? She was wearing a white blouse, blue jeans, and sneakers. I'm her friend and I got this—“ Sarah offers out the small scrap of paper with the pub's address. "I think she sent it to tell me where she had gone."

“A lot of people pass through here miss. But I haven't seen anyone come in wearing Muggle clothes recently. Them new poncy overlords are pretty uptight about that kind of stuff,” the ornery man eyed her. “I didn't hear nothin' about foreign witches being invited either...” He picked up the scroll and held it at arms' length it like it was about to bite him. “But I suppose this is proof enough. Come on, I'll show you the doorway. From there, just go straight up the road to Gringotts to get registered.” Sarah jolted at the casual name drop but went along without comment.

The bartender tapped a bunch of bricks and opened a magical portal. “Oh my god,” Sarah whispered as her feet brought her past the threshold. She spun around but was only able to catch the last few bricks fall back into place, the wall a seamless continuum of hardened clay once more.

She stared out at the world and the reality of what she had signed herself up for fell heavily on her shoulders. She was so over her head. But the secret part of her that had held onto the memories of her Underground adventures unfurled in longing.

“Well come on feet,” Sarah joked. She set off onto the main road towards the tall imposing building that sat at the end of it. She did her best not to gawk at everything around her as she did so.

But when the bank's entrance was finally in her sights, Sarah skidded to a hasty stop. She could recognize a goblin when she saw one and there were _droves_ of them moving in and out of that place. Sarah ducked into a store called Gladrags' Wizardwear and parked herself next to a rack right in front of the store's front window. She waved away the shop assistant with a vague excuse.

She studied the new goblins. They were a lot meaner looking than the goblins she had faced back when she was a child of sixteen. These renditions looked like they were perfectly capable of stopping one bratty teenager from getting anywhere near their castle. Why did the bartender send her there? Was he in league with _him_? Or could they be autonomous perhaps?

Someone tapped on her tensed shoulder and Sarah jumped a foot into the air.

“Oh so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to say it would be better if you didn't stare so openly. Otherwise, they'll know you have the Sight.” At Sarah's still blank face, the stranger continued earnestly, “You see, they're supposed to be invisible right now. I think the Goblins are just doing it out of habit though. Ever since the Fall, most people know better than to bother a goblin...” The blond blinked and lifted her hand for a handshake, “Ah, I forgot my manners. My name is Luna Lovegood. May I know yours?”

Sarah cautiously accepted the handshake, “Nice to meet you, my name's Sarah. Sarah Williams.”

“Oh! An American, how surprising. Hmm... your name sounds familiar. Do I know you?”

“I don't think so. This is my first time in London... Er, are we even in London?”

“Oh we're on the Market Road—it's not really anywhere at all to be honest. But if you were in London before, you must have come in from the Leaky Cauldron. That's OK, all roads lead here eventually. The Fae prefer it that way. You see their greatest weakness cannot hurt them in this space and they feel safest doing all their business here. They _are_ terribly unimaginative at naming things though. Aside from the Market Road, there's the Three Paths Plaza, Garden of Light, the Forest of Darkness, and the Castle Beyond the Labyrinth.”

Sarah tensed, “Fae? You mean like fairies?” “ _Please be the pixie kind_ ,” she thought.

“Hmm... not quite. They're a lot longer-lived and aren't as small. Most of them are quite tall actually. Very convenient when lording over their subjects I suppose.” Sarah's unease grew. They sounded closer to the Tuatha Dè Danaan variation of fair folk. The memory of a certain villain continued to plague her mind. Luna continued on obliviously, “Not that those who are short can't be lords of course. Harry was quite short before he ascended to the throne. Though I suppose the Goblins would argue he was still pretty tall compared to their average heights...”

Reminded of exactly why she was huddling in the shop in the first place, Sarah asked her new acquaintance, “So the bartender told me I was supposed to get registered at Gringotts for something. Just to confirm... it _is_ that Goblin infested building right?”

“Yes, though I wouldn't call it infested really. They run the bank after all.” Sarah gaped. Luna shook her head, “Nevertheless, you best get register as soon as possible. We wouldn't want the Light and Dark Courts to stir up trouble again once they get a whiff of you. The Goblins will do the necessary introductions and get you situated right away. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get quite a few reasonable offers since you have the Sight.” Her cloudy blue eyes suddenly darted to the right, “Oh! I must be going now. It was very nice to meet you, Sarah Williams. Good luck and I hope to see you again. It was quite a delightful conversation.” The blond gave her a cheerful wave before skipping off.

Sarah just watched her disappeared out of the store and into the street, too startled by the abrupt goodbye to bid one back. The shop assistant started eyeing her inquisitively and Sarah decided it was about time she left the store before she was subject to further questions.

She hoped these goblins were unrelated to _him_. It wasn't improbable. She could never imagine the goblins of her childhood dream running something like a _bank._ Surely, this was a different breed, a different nation? Luna had mentioned a Harry ascending the throne. Perhaps Jareth had moved on to other things and she was just being paranoid?

Buoyed by her logic, Sarah decided to take her chances and confidently strode past the gaggle of sharp-eyed goblins to enter the bank. The faster she got this over with, the faster she could get back to finding Hermione.

She was greeted with a large open room with a tall sky-high ceiling. She approached the teller directly to the right. “Excuse me? I'm here to get registered? I was told to come here to get that sorted out.”

The Goblin doesn't even lift his head up from his papers, “Name?”

“Sarah Williams.”

Every goblin in the whole room froze. Sarah took on glance around and decided to listen to her gut. Her feet skidded on the marble flooring as she backpedaled and lunged back out the open doors. A stampede formed behind her. “Stop her! Surround the Champion!” Sarah ran for her life, weaving between startled witches and wizards. Someone swore, spells started to fly, and a standoff started to take shape between the wand-wielders and the angry goblin mob. Sarah had gotten lucky; someone had been willing to pick a fight.

She pivoted and made her way back into Gladrags'. She made a beeline to the back, pulling a dark-colored robe to draw around her form so she didn't stick out as much. She tucked herself into a changing room that was miraculously bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. Her heart beat a thousand times per minute and Sarah was panting from the exertion. Thank God those goblins didn't have magic or she would have been caught for sure.

Someone cleared their throat unhappily. Sarah froze and looked up to find a scarred young woman. Sarah pleaded her case, “Please, I just need a few minutes to catch my breath. I'll be out of your hair as soon as I can.”

“You're an American. What are you even doing here? Did you seriously come here to be Claimed? What kind of idiot are you?”

“I'm just trying to find a friend. She's missing you see and well, she's a witch so it'd make sense someone here might know where she is.”

The blond stranger stepped into the room and Sarah tensed. But all the witch did was wave her wand and the door closed with a snap behind her. “Alright, I'll bite. Why don't you tell me why you have the goblins after you first?”

Sarah winced, “That's... a long story. One I don't think I have the time for if you don't want them rampaging through your lovely store. I swear I'll get out of your hair right away. In fact, I'm feeling better already. Don't suppose you have a backdoor somewhere?”

“Look, my name's Lavender. I own this store and I know I'm bloody lucky to have it. I might have had to pledge myself to the Dark Court, but they don't give two knuts about what I do so long as I keep paying their tithe. The goblins, on the other hand, aren't going to stop chasing you while you're unclaimed. I can help. I know a few people that can get you back out of the country if you've changed your mind about joining the Courts.”

“While that would actually be _really_ great I think—honestly I only understood about half of what you just said—but I can't leave without my friend. Not to mention... I think I was lured here. The stupid Goblin King was probably biding his time this entire time and wants revenge.”

Lavender's face froze in fright. “T-the Goblin King?”

Sarah sighed at the reaction, “Yea. I don't mean to bring you any trouble. He's a real pompous bastard."

“...I don't think I can help you after all. I can't risk _his_ ire or I'll lose my shop for sure.”

“I know,” Sarah said sadly. “But thank you all the same.”

Lavender opened the door back up and peered out both directions before whispering, “There's a door on the right that'll get you to the alleyway. Keep the robe. Pretend you never met me and I'll do the same.”

Sarah smiled gratefully and jogged off. She pulled the dark green hood of the robe over her head before venturing back out onto the road.

* * *

Hermione got distracted by the echoing boom, her head whipping in the direction of the window to place the sound.

When she looked back to where Harry had stood, the wizard had already left without a trace.

That was when Hermione realized the dratted man had never returned her wand. She huffed. It'd slow her down but she'd just have to make do with wandless casting.

She knew she had no time to lose and headed straight for the door. She was a little surprised when it swung open easily. It seemed locked doors would be the least of her worries.

She soon found herself descending a familiar staircase and into the old Gryffindor Common room. Another few steps and she was in the familiar halls of Hogwarts. Hermione's brow creased. Surely it wouldn't be so easy? It may have been seven years since she had walked the halls of her alma mater but she was fairly certain she could still find her way out of the familiar castle.

She approached the window to her left and took stock of where Hogwarts was now situated. Instead of Quidditch fields or the Great Lake, her view was filled with the twisting lines of a complicated hedge maze. She could see treetops on the horizon, but no town. Hermione took note. She was likely perpendicular to the direction she needed to be if she could see trees. Hermione mulled over her mental map of Hogwarts and determined the main entrance was situated in the direction of the town. All she had to do was make it down to the foyer.

She set off again. The whole place was eerie in its stillness. All of the portraits and paintings that hung on the walls were lifeless and all of the doors closed. Not another soul or ghost was in sight. She was only accompanied by the squeak of her shoes and the groaning of old wood. When she found herself passing the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower for the second time, Hermione knew it was more than just the staircases that were moving on her. Of course, it wasn't going to be that easy.

She started opening up doors to keep track of her path. It sort of worked, but it also slowed her down. As she peered into each room, Hermione was inundated with memories. Of both happy and terrible times. Six years of memories—as she had opted out of returning for her Seventh—that had Hermione sliding down against the wall to take a breather. She couldn't afford a meltdown when there were time constraints involved.

Hermione could only assume Harry was probably somewhere pulling the strings. Hermione had come across the library nearly every other room for a while. Others included the prefect's bathroom, the professor's offices, the Infirmary, all of the House common rooms, and nearly every one of her old classrooms. One of them had even opened up to the Chamber of Secrets. She slammed that one close immediately, basilisk or not basilisk.

She trudged on, her mind quickly using the pattern of repeating rooms to determine whether she had doubled back again. The room appearances were random, but the room choices slowly made their way down from the topmost rooms of the real Hogwarts. The only exception was the Chamber, but Hermione considered it an outlier because it only appeared once and she _had_ been dreading it in her mind. Perhaps it had only been the Room of Requirement.

When she opened the door to a first-floor Charms classroom, Hermione attempted to open a window to escape. It didn't budge. She tried an unlocking spell and then a blasting spell. The latter blew up most of the room and she felt the thrill of success when the glass shattered. To her dismay, however, she found it had only been an illusion. Behind the glass was only more brick and mortar. So she set off again with the knowledge that there would be no shortcuts. She had to find the right door.

Harry must have gotten bored with his game because she soon found herself in a very strange space. At the bottom were the grand double doors that would lead her out of the castle.

While it should have been something to celebrate, Hermione was just nauseous. The entire room was filled with doorways and staircases that not only moved as they apt to do but also pointed in every which direction. Hermione could see stairs that were upside down, landings that were sideways leading to perplexing placed staircases that didn't seem to lead anywhere at all. Doors and open archways could be found on the roof, the walls, and on the ground. Everything was overwhelmingly topsy-turvy.

She stepped out cautiously onto the staircase in front of her—she didn't exactly have much of a choice in terms of a path—and screamed when it immediately moved on her, pivoting an impossible ninety degrees so the door she was looking for was now on its side. She curled down on the stairs, gripping the railings in fright to wait for gravity to take hold and pull her into the void below her.

A few moments pass in terse fear before Hermione realized she wasn't going anywhere. She cautiously stood back up and found herself no worse for wear. She lifted a foot off the step warily but didn't find anything wrong. If she didn't think too hard, Hermione realized the room seemed to have simply tipped sideways. Well the stairs really, but her perspective had followed with little issue. She could still walk normally after she tested it cautiously.

It stumped Hermione. What was this room? How was she supposed to get down to the door?

From her peripheral, she spotted movement to the right of her. A few tufts of black hair poked out from behind a railing and Hermione's eyes narrowed. She inched toward the spy and snatched them by the hair.

A little goblin screeched in fear and pain. Hermione took a minute to place the semi-familiar sight. “Hey, you're the goblin that was there when I woke up weren't you!”

“Jam didn't mean to. Jam just wanted to see who the pretty lady was.” The goblin's ears quivered and Hermione felt bad. She adjusted her hold into a child's carry. Big brown eyes peered up at her nervously.

Hermione mulled on how to take advantage of this, “Does Harry know you're here?”

The goblin squealed in terror, “No! The King doesn't know! Please don't tell him!” Hermione suppressed her delight and instead, adopted her sternest expression.

“You're trespassing if he doesn't know you're here. He'll probably eat you up if he finds out.” Jam's eyes widened in horror. “...But I'll tell you a little secret. I'm not supposed to be here either. Do you think we could sneak out together? I won't tell if you don't.”

Jam's brows furrowed, his head tilted as if he was listening to someone, “OK pretty lady. Let's go before the King finds out.” His tiny hand gripped one of her curls.

“Well, which way?” Hermione asked. He pointed to the right and Hermione set off.

Soon enough, Hermione found herself in front of the entrance door. A few grunts and shoves, and the heavy doors swung open. All she could see a tall leafy wall stretched out before her, but Hermione was feeling optimistic. She was one step closer to freedom.

Jam squirmed. Hermione let him down and before she could give him her thanks, the tiny creature shot off seemingly headfirst into the wall of greenery. She wouldn't have been able to catch up to him even if she had tried.

Hermione squinted up at the still sunny sky and cursed when she heard a bell toll. She had already used up an hour of time.

* * *

“What the bloody hell happened Jareth?!” Harry appeared in a cascade of magic in Jareth's throne room, holding a clouded crystal ball.

The older Fae was lounging on an open windowsill instead of his throne. Jareth eyed the crystal and then the frustrated look of his protégé. He sighed, “ _That_ is the Labyrinth deciding to meddle. She does it when she takes a liking to a runner. A nuisance for sure, but there's nothing you can do until she decides to go away. Just take it as a good sign. She must approve of your future Queen if she has already taken an interest this early on. It's only been what? An hour?”

Harry growled, “I need to see her. I don't want her to get hurt! I only allowed her to run because I knew I could keep an eye on her!”

“Do you think so little of me Harry? I'm King of the Labyrinth—you have my oath that nothing will harm your beloved. Not irreversibly anyway.” His right hand made a shooing gesture as he spoke.

“That hardly reassures me. I can't believe I even offered her the chance to run in the first place. It was like I wasn't even in control.”

Jareth hummed, “Even I occasionally answer to a higher power boy. Magic is a fickle mistress. She likes her bargains...” He disappeared before his words were even finished, his mind clearly elsewhere. Harry growled in frustration.

He focused on the crystal in his grasp again. It was clearing up. Hermione had made it out of the castle. “Dammit,” Harry cursed and smashed the crystal into the wall. He had expected the castle to have kept her occupied longer. The Escher Room alone should have given her more pause.

“Why did I have to fall for such a brilliant witch?” Harry asked the now empty room.

* * *

Jareth reappeared in a well-lit forest, right in the path of an old knight and his steed.

“Woah Ambrosius,” the man cried out as his horse stomped unhappily at the abrupt stop. “Your Majesty! How may I help you?”

“Sir Didymus,” Jareth greeted, “I pray you've been enjoying your little vacation in the Garden?” The knight swung off his horse to bow properly to his King.

“Aye, the Light Court has been very accommodating and my young page is learning quickly. I'll be back in your services before you know it.”

Jareth conjured a crystal, “As it were, I have a task for you. I'm sure you won't mind the extra work?”  
  
“Of course not Your Majesty. What do you need from your humble servant?”

“Lady Sarah is being recalcitrant about coming back to the fold. I want you to escort her while she goes on her little roundabout adventure. Do it from a distance unless something comes up. Try to get her back onto Labyrinth grounds when you can. I find myself tired of waiting.”

“Of course Your Majesty.” He stayed bowing low until Jareth vanished, a crystal on the ground the only evidence of his presence.

Sir Didymus picked it up. He looked to his friend and patted the soft nose, “Don't look at me like that. Being a dog isn't so bad. Besides, this is for Lady Sarah! You love the Lady! If his Majesty's suit goes well, she'll be our Queen!” The tall, proud horse snorted. The knight gave his loyal companion another pat in consolation.

When the old knight and steed stepped out of the forest, they were transformed into a small anthropomorphic fox-terrier riding astride a disgruntled sheep-dog.


	8. The Way Forward is Sometimes The Way Back

Sarah contemplated her next steps. Part of her still wanted to hop on a plane and not look back. But the part that had helped her perverse against impossible odds to save Toby all those years ago refused to leave her friend behind. She wanted to smack herself for not seeing it before. It had been a trap all along. The commission, her trip, the letter. But why now? Why after all these years? Was Hermione just leverage to use against her? Or something worse. After all, was it truly a coincidence that her best friend outed herself as a witch the moment she arrived back in England?

Sarah glared up at the sky. It sucked that she wasn't fifteen anymore. Bratty as she had been, she had also been fearless. How was a 27-year-old woman who had zero magical abilities going to save a witch from a villain who held a twelve—almost thirteen-year-old grudge? “ _What perfect timing_ ,” Sarah scoffed inwardly after she did the math. It only led Sarah to believe this was a scheme that had been long in the works. She assumed the Master of the Labyrinth was long-lived if not outright immortal. Perhaps thirteen years was nothing more than a blink of time for him.

She took stock of her situation. The Castle beyond the Labyrinth was obviously her final destination. There she suspected Jareth was waiting for her with some grandiose speech and dastardly plans to make her pay for having won her baby brother back all those years ago. Her impression of the King had always been less than flattering.

Hopefully, Hermione was really nothing more than a pawn to get her here and not some kind of undercover agent Jareth had placed in her life. “ _She wouldn't have come back to England if you hadn't offered in the first place_ ,” Sarah scolded herself.

Sarah recited old words to steady her resolve, “Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the child you have stolen, for my will is as strong as yours and my kingdom as great. You have no power over me.” She tried to say them with the same kind of certainty she had back then and failed. Instead, she found herself shivering thinking of what the Goblin King would have in store for her now that she was an adult.

Sarah retraced her steps, following a crowd back to Three Paths Plaza. There, she took a seat on one of the benches situated around the fountain. From that vantage point, Sarah watched and observed the comings and goings of those passing through the Plaza.

The most direct path to the Castle was clearly through the Market Road, past Gringotts, and through the imposing hedge that sat between the bank and the castle. From personal experience, Sarah knew that hedge hid an expansive labyrinth full of both wonder and danger.

But from back here, however, Sarah could also see the gated communities on the left and right roads connected to the same foliage boundary. There was a good chance she could at least avoid the bank if she took one of these other trails.

Sarah obviously would have preferred the left road. Who wouldn't? But the guardian in front of the gate would always stop any approaching wizard or witch with an unrelenting spear. They would only let through those with some kind of magical identification. The only time they didn't was when it was clearly a Fae who arrived out of nowhere—causing everyone in the vicinity to freeze and stare—before sweeping unhindered past the guard. No amount of acting chops was going to get Sarah past that obstacle.

So Sarah turned reluctantly to the darker road on the right. Everything about the right path was a warning in and of itself. There was no guard, just a foreboding black gate, its hollow, decorative fence, and a forest that ate up the light. Not anyone's first choice for a detour. But she supposed it never was.

It took a while to observe anyone entering the gates. But when they did, Sarah had confirmation about just how easy it was to push the metal open and step through. Sarah knew she had to try. She couldn't go up against an army of goblins. She was magic-less and had no handy companions at her side; she could only hope that her decision might grant her the element of surprise.

Sarah straightened her back, pushed the gate, and strode right into the darkness.

* * *

“Oh dear,” Sir Didymus gasped as he watched Lady Sarah make her decision to walk right into the Forest of Darkness. Ambrosius whined.

“We must go quickly old friend. We have a damsel to save.” His trusty steed turned sheep-dog woofed and charged forward. Hopefully, they'll be able to intercept whatever dastardly creature came across their future Queen.

That or they'll have to throw themselves off a cliff. The High King would hardly be as quick if Sarah died on their watch.

* * *

When Hermione turned seven, her parents had thought it a great idea to bring her to the famous Longleat Hedge Maze for her birthday. After all, Hermione had always liked puzzles, and what was a hedge maze if not a physical manifestation of one?

What they didn't account for just how much physical stamina it would require for a little seven-year-old girl to make it through the complicated maze. Hermione was huffing and puffing within ten minutes as she ran along the winding paths of the maze in her zeal to succeed. Her parents offered to help as they ambled behind her, but Hermione refused. She had been stubborn and determined about making her way to the center of the labyrinth on her own. She followed the rule of keeping along the same wall and making turns in the same direction. She had some trouble when the method trapped her in a dead-end part of the maze, but she eventually figured it out by following the opposite wall. Her parents suffered a good two hours at her side.

That evening, she told her parents that she'd much rather prefer a book of mazes and her parents agreed. And Hermione had never entered another hedge maze again.

Until now that was.

Hermione growled when she found herself facing another wall that she _swore_ shouldn't be there. In a fit of frustration, she had tried casting _Incendio_ on the nearest wall to blast her way through (or burn herself to a crisp), but the walls proved to be impervious to magic. That was how she also found out that the ground was not. When she noted the black burnt patch marring the stone path remained, she started to blast scorch marks every fifty steps to mark her travels instead. And still, she found herself getting turned around more often than not. She could only conclude the walls were moving on her, but there didn't seem to be any pattern to it.

She sat down to rest and to reassess her approach. She was losing time and wasting her energy. The third bell had rung a while ago and she suspected the fourth was coming soon.

Obviously, the logical method of solving the hedge maze was not the answer.

Perhaps it was time to attempt magical solutions again. Hermione wasn't a savant at wandless magic but she was usually able to pull off common spells easily enough. She found herself a small twig among the foliage and attempted a Four-Point spell. " _Point Me!_ " Hermione whispered. The twig twitched and then spun aimlessly.

A failure, but still promising. Her magic was cooperating better than she remembered.

Hermione attempted the much harder alternative. Using the length of her arm and hand in place of her wand, she made the complicated motions needed to cast _Appare Vestigium_. Her hopes rose as a swirl of gold sparks and dead, dried leaves rose and shot off decisively in one direction. She could only pray it didn't lead her right back to the castle as she followed quickly after it.

She found her missing goblin compatriot at the end of the dust trail.

Jam squawked in fright at the sight of her. Hermione gave chase, determined to keep the slippery creature in sight.

* * *

“Again?!” Harry growled, shaking the stupid crystal ball furiously like a snow globe. He had lost sight of Hermione just as her spell reached its destination.

Harry paced as he considered the spell. It would have led her to someone who had performed magic within the Labyrinth. Considering most inhabitants didn't have enough magic to actually utilize it, Harry had very few suspects. He could blame it on the Labyrinth again, but it seemed too simple of an answer.

No wonder Jareth had complained about overseeing runners. It was one of the top three duties the Fae signed off to him as part of their bargain. It had been listed right below dealing with the Gringotts goblins' paperwork. Harry had originally thought it was just because the blond was a sore loser—having had a teenager best him in recent times. But now he knew better. It was humiliating to be usurped by a sentient bit of grass and twig.

He sighed, conjuring another crystal. He knew he just needed to be patient. The whole Labyrinth run was at best a distraction for Hermione. Harry was never going to let her leave them ever again even if she did find her way to the Plaza before her thirteen hours were up. 

At that thought, Harry paused and his finger tapped the crystal in suspicion. Then he threw it into the air, called out a name, and disappeared from view with a crack of sound.


	9. Old Friends and Old Tricks

It took a while before Sarah's eyes adjusted to the dim lighting in the forest. She cautiously made her way along the path for a bit, before trying to stick to the fence that separated the forest from the market. But when she came across a patch of dense trees that all but fused itself with the fence, Sarah was forced to find her way back onto the path. It didn't take much longer after that for Sarah to consider this a terrible idea as the tightly packed trees fully obscured her view of the market and the Labyrinth walls.

She turned back around to leave the way she had came. She couldn't afford to get lost. That would just be asking for trouble. At this point, the devil she knew was safer than the devil she didn't.

The hairs on Sarah's nape rose. Someone was here. And likely not the friendly sort.

"Hello there," a smooth tenor voice greeted. Sarah turned and spotted a handsome man dressed in pitch black robes walk out behind a tree.

The dark brown-haired, gray-eyed wizard could have been her fraternal twin in another world. Sarah eyed him in suspicion. The man asked, "I don't think I've seen you before. Are you new to the Dark Courts?"

"Depends on who's asking," Sarah hedged.

"Ah of course. Theodore Nott at your service." He even dipped into a bow. Sarah's stage experience had her automatically bending into an answering curtsy. A flicker of emotion flashed across his face.

"My name's Sarah," she offered.

"Interesting... An American. I wasn't aware your ruling body was allowing anyone to visit the Isles yet."

"Not officially no," Sarah lied instantly, "I was actually here for work. My er-mentor advised me to seek a position at the Castle Beyond the Labyrinth."

"I wasn't aware the King was hiring."

"My mentor has personal connections. And the position isn't guaranteed. I only come with his recommendations."

Theo smiled faintly and started to play with his wand. A veiled threat. "You've gone the wrong way if the Castle is your destination. The only thing that lies beyond this path is a sleeping Court."

Sarah knew her time was up and started to walk backward, "I see. My apologies then. I'll just be making my way back."

"I'd be a terrible gentleman if I were to leave you without some respite. Surely you're tired after having journeyed so far?" Suddenly Sarah felt all the energy in her limbs sap away and it took everything in her to remain standing. Alarms rang in her mind.

Within one breath and the next, Theo loomed before her, his hand bringing her limp one up to his lips. He didn't press a kiss, but rather inhaled her scent like a dog. "Oh what an interesting quarry. I smell... peaches. A hint of fear. And no magic. How peculiar to find a mere Muggle wander into our world."

Sarah's heart beat like a trapped hummingbird.

Theo held his wand pointed towards her and was likely about to cast something unfriendly when two small figures burst in between them.

"Stop foul creature! Go back to your Mistress!"

The man hissed, revealing two rows of sharpened teeth and his gray eyes bled a dark red. He slashed his wand at the intruder, letting off a bright green light.

"Shoo!" the tiny fox-terrier ordered again, something white and bright coming out the end of his short-sword to meet and overcome the attack. His sheep-dog snarled angrily beneath him. Thwarted, Theo fled deeper into the forest, his long black robes whipping in the wind with his haste.

Sarah gasped, "Sir Didymus! Ambrosius!"

* * *

Hermione finally caught up with Jam as he tripped in his haste to get away from her. She considered it a success as the goblin led her into a new area—a peach orchard. Sarah would have absolutely hated it.

She kept a firm grip on her squirming prisoner, clutching him to her chest like she would a child—or a misbehaving cat. The familiar feeling was the final straw to break the camel's back. Hermione slid down against a tree, caving under the emotional and physical strain she had been under since she woke up in the Hogwarts simulacrum. She held the confused goblin as she wept angry, sad tears and wondered if the bright little boy she had loved was truly gone forever.

Jam stopped fighting her hold and looked up at her.

A few moments later, Hermione's shoulders sagged and her grip loosened. Now that she was finally off her feet, she could feel them throb and complain. It had been many years since she experienced being on the run. She was now hungry and had no idea what time it really was, the sky above seemingly charmed to always be sunny.

She looked above her and debated whether the peaches hanging above her were worth risking.

"Jam can get you some," the goblin offered, "As sorry. Jam promises not to run off without you. Jam will lead you to door? Just don't tell King."

Hermione looked down at the strangely contrite fellow. "I don't know if I should be eating fruit from an unknown magical source."

"They taste good," Jam advertised eagerly, "Jam eats them all the time. Make good jam. Really delicious, you'll see." Before Hermione could say anything else, he jumped off her lap and started nimbly making his way up the tree, disappearing into the leaves. When he came back, he had two perfectly ripe peaches in hand. Hermione marveled at how he could have found his way down with both his hand occupied with the huge fruits.

"Here!" Jam offered. Hermione took it with some trepidation. She attempted to cast a few detection charms on it but nothing flared up. Hermione cursed at the lack of visual confirmation. They usually lit up the end of her wand so she couldn't tell. Either the charms had worked and there was nothing wrong or the charms hadn't worked at all. Deciding to be safe than sorry, she waited until Jam took a bite of his own peach and swallowed it down before cautiously taking one of hers.

Her teeth sank into the fuzzy flesh of the peach and a burst of sweetness hit her tongue. It really was delicious.

She started to blink sleepily. Her head nodded twice and her body pitched sideways. The last thing she saw was Jam looking guilty at her.

Hermione's head lolled to the side, her eyes fluttered shut, and the partially eaten peach rolled out of her grasp to rest next to her sleeping body.

* * *

Harry leaned over Hermione's unconscious form with a frown. At her side was a guilty goblin who offered a half-eaten peach up to his King.

“Jam,” Harry ground out. “You weren't supposed to leave the castle. What about your lessons!”

“Lessons boring. Labyrinth said it would be fun to help the pretty lady...” The small creature dug his toe into the dirt.

Harry ran a hand through his hair in exasperation and accidentally pulled free the tie that kept his longer strands away from his face. He frowned irritably. Just another downside to his bargain with Jareth—his hair refused to stay short. When he complained about it growing out again overnight, his King and mentor simply told him to get used to it because it would only get longer as he transitioned to a full Fae.

“Stop playing. Go back,” Harry ordered. Jam squatted down and vanished.

Harry's mind flickered back to Jareth's stories and lessons on runners. The young King levitated his future Queen onto a newly conjured settee. He mulled only for a moment before peeling off his glove and pressing his hand upon her brow.

Harry disappeared and Hermione slept on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just about done with final chapter. So expect daily updates until this is completed (owo)/ As always, thanks for your comments and kudos.


	10. Respite For the Weary

Sarah could have cried at the sight of her old friends. It was as if no time had passed at all since she had last seen them.

"Worry not milady! Sir Didymus is at your service! Now, what is a young mortal like you doing in the dark neck of the woods?" The old knight asked. Ambrosius woofed, his tag wagging. "Say, how did you know our names?"

"It's me! Sarah! Oh, it's been so long. I almost can't believe... well I can't believe you're really here! You helped me before. Almost thirteen years ago." The former Labyrinth runner kneeled down to hug the duo.

"Oh my. What a delight! To be reunited after all these years! Why look at you! You're all grown up." Sir Didymus voiced jovially. Ambrosius snuffled strangely.

"Yes, I'm quite the spinster now," Sarah joked, "Perhaps too old to qualify to be your lady, Sir Didymus."

"What nonsense. You're _The Lady_ , milady. No one would ever compare!"

Sarah laughed, feeling her strength return as her old friend inspired her to feel young again. "I don't suppose I could trouble you to lead the way out of this horrible forest?"

"Your wish is my command!"

Sarah followed them with equal parts relief and happiness, “I _have_ tried to learn my lesson you know. Wishes shouldn't be made lightly. Though I suppose this time is easily an exception. I'd definitely be dead if it weren't for you. _Thank you_.” Sir Didymus merely smiled and led their party onward.

When they made it out of the black gates, she kissed the furred cheeks of her saviors. Her bravery had meant nothing in the face of true danger. Sarah felt overwhelmingly daunted by the quest she had taken up. She wished she had magic but knew better than to voice it out loud. Who knew what the cost would be.

"So why have you come to the Three Paths then Lady Sarah?" Sir Didymus asked curiously.

"I'm trying to find my friend, Hermione. She used to live here you see. I mean in the country, not here I don't think. She's missing and I'm worried. I think... I think _he_ lured me here by stealing her away. But for what reasons I don't know. Revenge I would assume."

He bowed his head, "Perhaps. But His Majesty hasn't been spotted Above for a while now. Not since he passed the Kingship." Sarah's expression twisted into confusion, "He abdicated?" She couldn't fathom Jareth would ever do such a thing.

The knight blinked, "Of course not. He is still High King of the Labyrinth and of Lost Dreams. He merely passed the role of Goblin King to his new Heir. The new King was formerly a wizard named Harry James Potter."

Sarah's eyes widened at the familiar name. That was Hermione's former beau, the one she had been so strung up over. Sarah frowned. She imagined the wizard was similar to Jareth... Nothing would have changed. Hermione was still likely stuck in the castle, caught in some intricate web to lock her away.

"Can you please help me get into the Castle Sir Didymus? I'm sure Hermione must have been taken. She has a turbulent history with this Harry Potter."

Sir Didymus shook his head, "Sadly milady, I have been recruited by the Light Court as part of a bargain I made two years hence. I cannot step foot on Labyrinth grounds until my duties are completed." He tapped his cheek with a paw. "But I can get you into the Garden at least. I know of another Lady who has been given permission to enter the maze for research. I'm sure she won't mind giving a helping hand. That way you won't have to deal with the Above goblins. Nasty and quick-tempered critters they are. Nothing at all like the Underground variety."

He led her to the imposing gates on the left path. The two giant guardians made no movement as he and Sarah walked past them and into the vibrant world beyond.

* * *

When Hermione woke up, she was in a soft bed. She yawned sleepily, curling closer to the warm, solid body next to her.

"Hermione love, it's time to wake up." Harry Potter's handsome face greeted her when Hermione's eyes opened. She blinked in befuddlement.

"James is probably waiting in the Great Hall already," he murmured against her lips as he pressed a good morning kiss to hers. Hermione absentmindedly kissed him back. Her brain was still struggling to wake up.

She mumbled incoherently as her best friend helped her dress for the day. Some part of her dimly screamed that he was seeing her naked when he had no right to. Another part of her hummed at how nice it felt to be cared for in such a way.

She placed her hand in the nook of his elbow, her head resting against his shoulder as he led the both of them down familiar halls and stairs to the Great Hall. The huge space only had a single table in the center. A handsome young boy was already sitting down on one of the chairs that surrounded the laden table. "Mum! Dad! Finally! I'm starving!"

Hermione found herself smiling and crying at the same time. She didn't understand why. Slightly rough fingertips brushed the tears away. "None of that love, James is waiting."

She found herself seated next to James while Harry sat on her other side.

Soon the only sounds were the soft clinking of tableware and the enjoyment of good food. When Hermione finally felt full, she started to ask James questions. Little things that randomly came to mind.

"How have you been James? Have you made any new friends?"

"Everything's been great! I've made lots of friends at Hogwarts. I'm top of my class!" Hermione's brow furrowed a little. Weren't they _in_ Hogwarts? Where were the other students then?

"You're being silly Mum. Dad just made the Castle _look_ like Hogwarts since you both loved it there." Ah, she didn't realize she had voiced her thoughts out loud. That would explain it. She ignored the nagging thought.

"Wait aren't you only seven? How come you're at Hogwarts already?"

James giggled, "Mum, I'm already eleven! It's my first year."

Hermione brought her hand to her temple to rub it. Of course, she was being scatterbrained. James was eleven and she had been married to Harry for the last five years already. "Sorry, darling. I don't think I'm quite awake yet."

"It's OK, I'm just glad you're here."

"Me too love." Harry picked up her hand and kissed it softly.

Hermione smiled and time passed happily as her lovely little family finished their meal.

* * *

Jareth sat down across the table from a young blond witch. “I hope you've been satisfied with your studies of my Labyrinth?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you again for the opportunity. Why I think I've documented at least two different species of moon frogs and four species of dabberblimps already. Your subjects have been extremely accommodating of course. Well except for the Fieries. I still haven't quite figured out a spell to let me detach my head in order to introduce myself properly.”

Jareth flicked his wrist and offered the girl a flower crown. She smiled and placed it neatly on her head. “Tell them that I demanded you keep her head on. They'll make an exception.”

The immortal Fae had been extremely disappointed to find the witch had already taken an oath to the Light Court when he first came across her. Jareth would have much rather offered the Goblin throne to her than the broody boy that he had chosen afterward.

Harry had been lucky he had a delightful son as well as Jareth's sympathies. The King of Lost Dreams could hear the whispers coming off of the weary wizard from twenty paces away. It had been all too easy to learn about Hermione Granger when most of Harry Potter's dreams revolved around her. Such tormented love and loss. Jareth had seen a bit of himself in the lad.

So alas, he succumbed and offered the crown to the boy instead.

As for his would-been Heiress, he had to make due by enticing her into his lands with an open invitation to study his subjects. The True Seer had been more than happy to take him up on it.

And now she would serve another purpose. “I have a long-awaited visitor coming through soon. Sir Didymus will be bringing her here. When they ask for your help to enter the Labyrinth, you will grant it but you will not mention I was the one to permit it. Make them work for it if you must.”

“Oh?” Luna asked, “Is this the Champion I've been hearing about? The one spotted in the Market?”

Jareth merely grinned toothily.

“Of course Your Majesty. I will do as you wish.” The Fae disappeared after the acknowledgment.

Once he was gone, Luna dropped her cheery facade and frowned. She had no desire to lead one of her own into the devil's hands.


	11. Reality's a Harsh Wake-up Call

Not too long after they entered the Garden, Sarah followed Sir Didymus into a beautiful chateau that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He asked her to wait outside while he settled some business with his page first.

Sarah smiled at the thought of a mini Sir Didymus. She wondered if they would be anthropomorphic as well and if they too would have a sheep-dog mount of their own. Perhaps Sir Didymus had a family of his own now and it was one of his kids... Her imagination wandered off as she waited.

When Sir Didymus returned and she was actually greeted by a grown man—er wizard—she did her best to keep her previous thoughts off of her face. The tall dark-haired lad introduced himself as Neville Longbottom. It was quite laughable to see the two of them side by side. Even while on Ambrosius, Sir Didymus only reached up to his page's waist.

"I don't suppose you have a mount too?" Sarah quipped after she introduced herself. Neville smiled, "Regrettably no. I have not yet completed enough of my training to deserve one." He glanced down at her old friend before meeting her gaze again, "So I heard you're looking for Hermione." There was a familiarity in the way he said Hermione's name that surprised Sarah.

"Yes, do you know her? Hermione Williams?"

Neville's brow crinkled in confusion. “Sorry I thought... Are you sure you don't mean Hermione _Granger_?”

“Er, no? My friend's name is Hermione Williams... though I suppose it wouldn't be too out of the question for her to have lied about her last name. I didn't know she was a witch after all. Hermione's 5'5'', brown eyes, crazy curly brown hair? Really smart, talks like a walking encyclopedia sometimes? Would marry a good book if she could?“

“That sounds like our Hermione Granger alright. We were schoolmates. Friends I dare say. She's quite the famous witch." Sarah's interest piqued. "Oh?"

Sir Didymus cleared his throat, "Perhaps we should move this conversation to more comfortable surroundings? Preferably with food and drink?" Sarah's stomach rumbled. She hadn't eaten at all today.

Neville rubbed the back of his neck in sheepish apology. "Sorry, of course. Just gimme a few minutes to clear out the sitting room."

That's when Sarah found out the chateau belonged to Mister Longbottom. He had been granted special permission to bring his old family home into the Garden as part of Sir Didymus's bargain with the Light Courts. The kind knight had struck a deal to help the man keep his home and dignity after the Wizarding World was upheaved by the Faes' arrival and domination. He promised to train Neville into a Knight that would serve in a similar capacity to his own position for the Light Court and took a temporary oath to their Court to do so. He would not return to the Labyrinth until Neville was properly knighted by the Court.

Sarah glanced at Sir Didymus; she wondered how he had managed to get permission to leave the Labyrinth for such an indeterminate amount of time.

Neville pulled out a chair for her and Sarah sat. After confirming with Neville and Sir Didymus that the food wouldn't bind her to this realm, she dug in with relish.

After they settled in, Neville began to recite the recent history of their world and explain how Hermione fit into it all.

Wizarding Britain had been plagued by two consecutive wars over the last few decades, both led by the same Dark Lord. "Before that, we had another Dark Lord that reached a global scale if you could imagine," Neville amended, "But that's too far back in time to consider. The one I'm going to be talking about kept mainly to Europe, namely Britain."

The Dark Lord gained support for his cause by advocating the oppression of a minority population known as muggle-borns. A muggle-born was a witch or wizard born without a magical parent; Hermione was part of this minority and suffered most of her childhood for it. She wasn't however the main character of the story. That particular position was actually filled by her best friend, a boy named Harry Potter. His parents were part of a resistance group that fought against the Dark Lord during the first war.

Sarah's frowned. So this was what Hermione meant when she said it was complicated.

Neville continued. A prophecy was made about a July birth that would bring about the fall of the Dark Lord and his forces. It could have applied to either himself or Harry, but Voldemort went after Harry while his trusted followers went after the Longbottoms. His parents were... disposed of but Neville had already been hidden away at his grandmother's. Harry's parents were also killed, but somehow Harry as a toddler defeated the Dark Lord and ended his reign of terror.

Sarah opened her mouth to ask _"How?"_ but Neville shook his head to show he didn't know before proceeding further.

Unfortunately, the dark wizard dabbled in extremely dark magic to keep himself tethered to the Living Realm and Harry had to fight him again and again throughout his entire childhood. Luckily he had two good friends—Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley—at his side who stuck it out with him through thick and thin. The rest of them hadn't understood how hard it must have been for the trio until the Dark Lord's resurrected forces infiltrated their last bastion of safety, the boarding school they all attended called Hogwarts. Neville got quiet afterward, a heavy and sad look shadowing his face.

“...So where do the goblins come into this?” Sarah broached.

Neville looked a little startled, “The goblins? They've always been involved I suppose. They've run the wizarding banking system for as long as there's been a Wizarding Britain. They were neutral during the wars though. Not much help, them goblins. Though I suppose it's not entirely their fault. There were a few Goblin wars in the past plus general prejudice against magical creatures...”

Confused, Sarah asked him to continue. Neville went on to talk about how the Light eventually won the war, but at great expense to their numbers. Things were peaceful, hopeful even, in the years that followed as the few who remained worked to rebuild their society. But all too soon, they faced another crisis: a dwindling number of children being born with magical ability. Many of the post-war children were tested as squibs. This is, non-magical children born to magical parents. Our Ministry considered it their top priority when the statistics kept getting worse each year.

Now curious, Sarah asked, “Do your children often end up magical then? How long does the typical wizard or witch live up to? Is it the same as non-magic folk? Or is it more long-lived like Fae? Do you have children as often as we mortals do? How do you remain undetected if you have children born with magic from even non-magical families?”

Neville was flustered by the barrage of questions, “Er. Not always. We used to assume squibs born to two magical parents were the result of inbreeding—some of the more fanatic followers of the Dark Lord I mentioned believed those with less pure lineage was stealing the magic from them, hence the muggle-born prejudice. Not true obviously. Squibs were pretty rare before the war ended."

He scratched his head as he tried to remember the rest of her questions, "Hmm... as for our lifespan, we have had wizards and witches live up to two hundred years I think. Not a lot but most Healers cite that number. Most witches and wizards pass on far before then though. I can't recall the last wizard or witch who did live that long. Albus Dumbledore was the oldest wizard I personally knew of and he hadn't yet reached 120 by the time he was murdered. We can die just as easily as Muggles can and we start our families around the same age too. Though I suppose witches _can_ have children later in life than Muggle women can. Most don't though because our youth is only really extended by maybe a decade at most. We just live longer in our twilight years because of magic. It's why all the famous wizards and witches are depicted as old and wizened. Why do you ask?”

Sarah jolted at the casual mention of murder. The whole thing sounded more and more surreal. “I was just wondering. Fae are often depicted as immortal or at least very long-lived and aren't known for having many children of their own. That's why they're attracted to mortal children in the stories, often stealing them away to turn them into one of their own. And then there are changelings... Are you sure you're not descended from one? That could explain your magical abilities.”

“Hmm, I doubt it. The _number_ of children seemed to average the same year after year. It's just that they don't have magic." Neville rubbed the back of his neck again, "Sorry, I don't know much more about it. There was a task-force formed to research the issue. I believe Hermione was part of it.” Neville hesitated before commenting, “I think that's why she left in the first place.” He then described how their Ministry announced they would be performing an ancient ritual to pull more magic into their lands to fix the problem. Sarah winced. It was obvious where the magic had come front.

Neville confirmed the ritual cracked open the gates to the Underground and Jareth stepped through before the rift closed back up.

According to their unexpected guest, Wizarding Britain should be grateful that it was only him that passed through. If other sovereigns had come through, there would have been an all-out Fae war. Their government was anything but of course and tried to fix their mistake.

Jareth had no problems with their so-called parlor tricks and easily subdued them. Within days, he tore down their magical government, stitched up their magical communities into one, and laid down his laws. To our dismay, he struck a bargain with the Underground Light and Dark Courts and opened a path through his Labyrinth for them to visit the Above without the need for the gate. He took advantage of the scared witches and wizards like one would a herd of wild cattle, rounding them up to offer to the two sides in order to entice them into accepting the sovereignty of his own Court. Because he was the only Fae invited, they would only be allowed to stay on his whim and hospitality.

The other Fae took the deal and every witch and wizard who stood within the newly claimed lands were forced to remain and swear an oath to a Court lest they preferred to die a painful death. Both Fae and their new subjects then had to swear a second oath to recognize Jareth's higher sovereignty and to never meddle in Labyrinth affairs. The penalty for not upholding either oath was a trip to the Bog of Eternal Nightmares.

When foreign visitors started to go missing, many other wizarding nations closed up their borders in response. As far as Neville knew, they warned any witch or wizard traveling outside to avoid the country at all costs. “While you're not the first foreign witch to stumble here accidentally, you are the first to last this long without being claimed,” Neville observed.

“I'm not a witch though..." Neville looked at Sir Didymus in confusion. Sarah looked at both of them before asking, "How did you come to meet Sir Didymus then?”

“He saved us. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be here nor would my wife.”

At the beginning of the turmoil, Neville's wife, Hannah, unfortunately, caught the eye of a Dark Fae. Neville luckily had iron shears on him due to his Herbology interests, and he was able to injure the Fae enough to grab his wife and run. They couldn't go very far though. Not when the Labyrinth would redirect the runners back to the Three Path Plaza—a space where iron's effects were nullified.

Instead, they tried to hide in Neville's ancestral house and barricade themselves with iron. They lasted until Jareth ordered his immune subjects to sweep the land for any unclaimed witches and wizards. Contingents of goblins and other strange inhabitants of the Labyrinth easily squirreled out the remaining hold-outs, including the two Longbottoms.

Luckily for them, they were found by Sir Didymus and not by one of the other search parties. He sympathized with their troubles and the chivalrous knight sheltered the both of them. Unfortunately, he could not offer them a place in the Labyrinth and had to hash out a deal with his King before he could offer any further help to the young couple. But he persevered and brought the two of them personally to the Light Court where he made the necessary introductions and bargains to get them sworn in on favorable terms.

Neville swore their family would never forget the debt. As if on cue, Hannah, his wife came out to join them and greeted Sir Didymus and Sarah warmly. She plied them with more food despite being heavily pregnant.

As they finished up their meal, Neville confessed how nervous both of them were about the pregnancy because the ritual hadn't solved the squib dilemma. They could only hope that their baby would be magical. If not...

An uncomfortable pause filled the air afterward. The Seelie Court wasn't that much different from their Unseelie counterparts. At best they would be allowed to keep the child as a plaything. A pleasant diversion for a prank or two. A magical mortal was worth more than a magic-less one—especially when the Court had an abundance of former now. If their child was a squib, the Longbottoms would have to decide whether to keep the babe and hope their overlords were merciful or chance leaving it in the Muggle world for a safer future. Hannah confessed she was rather chance the latter. Neville thinned his lips and said nothing.

It reminded Sarah that she had to get a move on. There was no point to this if she ended up accidentally bound to the Summer Court and unable to enter the Labyrinth. “I think we best be going now,” Sarah asserted. "Did you settle your business with Neville already Sir Didymus?"

"Aye milady," The fox-terrier got up from his seat to prepare for their departure.

Sarah continued, “It was lovely to meet the both of you." She picked up Hannah's hand and held it, " _I wish_ your baby does grow to be magical so your family never has to make that difficult decision.” Sir Didymus's nose twitched. Sarah's eyes did not waver from Hannah's while she said her words. A heavy veil of magic was cast over the table after Sarah spoke. Neither of the Longbottoms could recognize what had happened.

She might not be a witch, but Sarah knew her wishes tended to come true more often than not. It was the only thing she could offer the couple in return for their hospitality.

“Yes! We have another damsel in distress to save after all,” Sir Didymus said, breaking the solemn mood, as he resettled himself on Ambrosius's saddle.

Neville and Hannah come out of their impromptu reverie. “I don't think you'll have to worry about Hermione honestly. Harry—er I mean Lord Potter—wouldn't hurt a single hair on her head,” Neville offered.

Sarah wasn't so easily reassured. She and Sir Didymus were quickly back on the road and on their way.

* * *

Hermione was dancing slowly with Harry after they ate. James had scrambled off to play with his friends and left his parents to themselves.

She sighed contently, happy to let Harry rock her into a blissful daze.

"Will you stay with me forever love?" Harry whispered against her temple.

"Haven't I always?"

His grip tightened for a moment, "A promise would be nice anyway."

"Of course Harry. I'll stay as long as you want me to."

His bright green eyes curved in delight at her easy acceptance. He kissed her, coaxing her lips to open and accept his questing tongue. She hummed as she tangled and teased him with her own. Hands wandered, they stopped swaying to the music to press closer to one another.

She was a little breathless as he pressed soft kisses along the curve of her neck. It felt pleasant enough that Hermione wanted him to go further, except a small, shrill voice was still nagging at her about forgetting something important.

Hermione pushed Harry back. Harry's mouth twisted into a pout. She couldn't resist kissing it once more. "Don't you have to go to work?" A pause. "...Don't I have to go to work?" The witch couldn't imagine she had become an idle housewife.

"No, it's evening remember? We just had dinner. You must still be exhausted from your day at the office." As if the world had rearranged itself at Harry's words, Hermione became aware of the evening light filtering from a window just past the side door of the Hall. The enchanted ceiling transitioned into the night sky. She blinked but couldn't find it in her to dredge up any concern about the sudden change.

"Oh. Well, how was your day then?" Hermione asked. She was feeling rather achy. Like she had worked out intensely after not having done so for weeks.

"Wonderful. I've finally caught the person I've been looking for." Hermione only found it a little strange to have forgotten Harry was an Auror.

"Congratulations Harry! How'd you do it?"

"It was easy. Was practically handed to me on a silver platter. Not to mention, she also walked right into a trap afterward."

"A witch? You better not have used yourself as bait mister."

"If only. No, all it took was a child."

Hermione's smile disappeared and the witch was instantly incensed, "You used a kid?!" Her mind started to clear up.

"He insisted," he nuzzled her, “Couldn't have stopped him even if I wanted to.”

"It's still dangerous! How could you let him do that?!"

"He volunteered. It was his mother we were chasing after all."

Hermione paused. "That poor boy." Her awareness started to drift again.

"Yes, poor Ja-Jason." Hermione blinked at the stutter.

Feeling rather tired still, Hermione decided to change the topic, "Can we call it an early night? I'm knackered."

"Of course love." Harry curled a possessive arm around her waist as he led them back towards their chambers.

Hermione paused in front of a window on the way. Her brows furrowed at the sight of a large hedge maze sprawling from every direction. "Harry, why do we have a labyrinth around the house?"

"To protect us remember? It keeps all the pesky reporters and fame-seekers out."

Hermione felt something bubbling up inside of her, "But I don't like hedge mazes. They're terribly impractical. Surely it takes ages to leave the grounds. Not to mention the upkeep."

Behind her, Harry's hands slid from her shoulders to cup around her neck in a caress that made Hermione flinch, "That's news to me love. You were the one to suggest it. Besides, it's a magical maze. Hardly impractical. It has done its job for a very long time already."

Hermione let out a whimper. Something felt very wrong but she couldn't seem to grasp what. Magic rose out from her and exploded outward. The windows shattered. Harry hissed, but he shielded her from the spray of glass.

"Harry!" she shrieked. She twisted out of his grasp, spinning them back around—to check on him or to escape his grasp she wasn't quite sure.

She screamed when she saw Harry properly.

Eerie slitted eyes glared out of an unnaturally pale face. Everything about him seemed to have elongated. His magic glowed all around him and Hermione was terrified. By the time she spotted his pointed ears, Hermione had already backpedaled right into the newly broken window, her hip pressed until its jutting sill.

She glanced down when her hand closed accidentally around the ragged edges of the remaining glass shards. She stared uncomprehendingly when no blood came out and she felt zero pain. "W-what?"

It was like lightning had struck when Hermione finally remembered. "You bastard!" she screeched. She had to be dreaming. James was gone, transformed forever into a goblin—not that happy little boy talking about enjoying his time at Hogwarts. Harry was certainly _not_ her husband.

Harry sighed in disappointment. He wished she hadn't remembered so quickly. It had been turning out to be such a nice dream.

He reached out towards her but Hermione's foot smacked against the wall when she matched his step forward with a step back. She tilted backward and felt nothing behind her. She fell out of the window and the world shattered around her.

Hermione woke up alone gasping under the peach tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof late today, was too busy at work to do final edits. In case it wasn't clear, Hermione's journey is based on Sarah's path during the movie (essentially going backwards). Though now that I look at the wiki plot, I did mix up the next section she'll be in. It should have happened before the peach... Oh well, it worked out better that way (=u=)/ Til tomorrow, thanks for reading.


	12. Lost and Found

Sarah and Sir Didymus arrived before a stout tower that was situated on top of a small hill right next to the white stone wall.

Sir Didymus spoke as they trekked up the steps to reach the tower door, "Now, you'll just have to convince Lady Luna to let you through her gate, but it shouldn't be too hard. She is quite kind and well likely by most of our Labyrinth denizens. She already has permission from the King to enter as she pleases—she does research on the various species of lesser Fae found within our territory."

Sarah blinked at the semi-familiar name and thought back to the strange blond witch she had encountered back at Gladrags' on Market Road.

It certainly felt serendipitous to find the self-same woman coming out to greet and welcome them into her abode. Miss Luna led them into a garden hidden behind the tower and to a cute garden table that had already been set up with tea and cookies. Sarah noted a small side gate on the right. Intricate iron bars were all that separated her from the Labyrinth beyond.

The three of them sat and Luna poured the tea. Sarah endured sipping at it with as much courtesy as she could muster. She wished it was coffee.

“It's nice to meet you again Miss Williams. I see you haven't yet decided on your Court. Are you considering the Light? They're not so bad. Less scary than the Dark if a bit mischievous.”

“Yeah about that... I'm not a witch. I'm just here trying to find one.” Sarah presented her case and was surprised to find that she, too, knew of Hermione. "Does everyone know her? I mean Neville said she was famous, but this is a bit..."

"Our society is a small, enclosed one. Almost everyone around our age knows one another because we most likely went to school together. In my case, I was in the class below Hermione's. We met through a mutual acquaintance as it were. She got to be quite nice, once she accepted my Sight. I could tell she was uncomfortable knowing some creatures existed outside of her perception. Especially when she was in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures—though she was very supportive of my magizoology pursuits."

Sarah fell quiet. All this talk about Hermione's past only made her fiercely miss her friend. She should have been the one to tell her all of this. Not some strangers, if albeit nice ones. She regretted ever asking Hermione to come to England with her. They should have gone to freaking Iceland instead.

"Enough about that though. Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? The Sight only allows you to _see_ the creatures that lurk in the Labyrinth. It's not much help running away from them. Even I'm wary when I set forth for my studies, and I have magic."

"I've conquered the Labyrinth before. It'll be a piece of cake," Sarah said in false bravado.

Luna quirked her eyebrow and held an unblinking stare-off with the nervous Champion.

"…OK yes, I know it'll be dangerous and I'm definitely in over my head, but I can't just leave her there to fend for herself. Not when I'm the reason she was even here in the first place."

Luna gave her a doubtful look, "I'm sure Hermione would have found her way back with or without your influence. This is her home. It might be better to let her figure things out with Harry than to insert yourself into their business."

“Maybe under normal circumstances, you would have had me convinced. But I have a history with that same Fae that ripped your entire society apart singlehandedly and then reshaped it to his will. He's not one to give up and you lot gave him a free pass to be up here with us.” Sarah knew she was being harsh. Maybe even self-centered. But she'd rather sacrifice herself than test the alternative.

Luna turned sullen at the reminder—the light in her eyes all but extinguished. “I was there when he first arrived if you must know. I witnessed it all. He killed the thirteen who summoned him and our Minister when they tried to send him back. Whatever obsession you think the King has with you, it won't end well. You can _leave_ Sarah, unlike the rest of us. You still have a home waiting for you elsewhere. Don't just throw it away. Hermione will be safer if you stayed away.”

“I'm not expecting a friendly welcome back Luna. I don't _want_ to face him. But everything I've experienced so far has been leading me back. I'm not just going to run away. Besides, you believe me don't you Sir Didymus?”

Her old friend looked startled to be put on the spot, “Er-why yes of course. We wouldn't be here if I-I didn't believe so.” Sarah's eyes narrowed slightly.

The blond drew her attention back as she twiddled her fingers together, “How do you expect to accomplish this plan alone?” ' _And powerless'_ hung in the air.

Sarah mulled over it, “The same way most story characters would by offering a deal. Unless... would you be able to go with me?”

Luna was apologetic, “I'm afraid any witch or wizard who has sworn an oath will be unable to assist you. You see, we're forbidden from interfering with Labyrinth affairs. Trespassing and rescue of prisoners would definitely qualify as such. However, I am not obliged to resist, should you say... take the key at my waist to open the gate.” Sarah's eyes were immediately drawn to a large silver key dangling from Luna's waist. “Sadly, I believe Sir Didymus also cannot go with you due to his own ties with the Light Court.”

Sarah looked at her old friend, “I guess this is where we part ways then?”

Sir Didymus lowered his head, “I'm afraid so Lady Sarah.”

"You should really reconsider Lady Sarah," Luna persisted, "What will you do if Hermione's not there?”

"I don't exactly have any other options. Hermione and I had like two minutes to actually talk about her having magic before she went missing. I didn't even know her real last name! Nor does she know about my own little adventure in the Underground. Even if no one else can help me, I have to at least check. Worst-case scenario, I don't come back. It's not like anyone other than Hermione would miss me."

Sir Didymus protested immediately, “How could you say that Lady Sarah! Surely you have other loved ones? What of your little brother? Your parents? We would miss you won't we Ambrosius?” His steed woofed in agreement.

Sarah fidgeted in place, “I know Sir Didymus, I'm sorry. It's just... my family hasn't been in the picture in years. The only friend I've made since I left home has been Hermione. I can't just leave her.”

Luna smiled sadly, "I can see why Hermione found solace in your friendship. Take the key Sarah and may Circe bless your journey." The blond raised her right hand in the air like she was taking an oath of her own. She took off the flower crown she had on her head and placed it on Sarah's.

Sarah thanked her and unhooked the key from Luna's person. She brushed off her pants and marched to the gate, shoving the key in before she lost her nerve. The iron door swung open easily. She stepped through.

A feeling of belonging bloomed within Sarah when her feet landed on Labyrinth grounds.

The former runner didn't look back to bid goodbye and headed straight into the looming greenery. Magic directed her feet as she quickly made her way through the maze and out of sight. The gate swung close on its own with an ominous clang.

Luna's eyes were gloomy as she watched the hedges practically jump apart for the returning Champion. Sir Didymus shifted guiltily beside her and Ambrosius bid Sarah farewell with a long piercing howl.

* * *

Somewhere at the top of the castle, Jareth lounged while smiling at his conjured crystal. He tossed the bauble into the air and a furry beast woke up from his slumber. One last boon to guide her home.

It was almost time. The stars were finally aligning just the way he had willed them.

* * *

Hermione scrubbed at her eyes. The dream had felt so damn real. When she got her hands on Jam again, she was going to spank him until he cried.

She kicked the half-eaten peach in a fit of ire. She frowned when it seemed to go right through the wall on her left.

She approached it and found herself facing an opening between two hedges with another hedge close behind it. Another trick of the eye. Hermione slipped through and had to walk sideways before rounding the bend of the third hedge.

She gasped when she was greeted by a whole new section of the maze.

Instead of the monotonous green hedges she had faced this entire time, the walls were now artificially stacks of junk _._ It was as if the entire Room of Hidden Things had been dumped on the ground and re-piled skyward. Hermione had half a mind be on the lookout for lurking Death Eaters. As it were, she saw both wizarding knickknacks as well as Muggle ones interlocking tightly together in a precarious game of Jenga. Everything was old and dusty, causing Hermione to sneeze if she breathed too deeply. The whole place was tightly packed, the aisles only just big enough for one person to walk through.

Hermione proceeded through the stacks cautiously. She didn't want to cause any domino effects by accident and end up buried alive. A while later, when she found herself right back where she started—a memorable collection of broken rainbow Furbies to serve as a landmark—Hermione wondered if this was just a dead-end section of the maze.

That was until she saw a Vanishing Cabinet hidden under a green moth-eaten curtain. She pulled the curtain away, coughing even as she held her arm to her mouth to cover it. The door wouldn't budge, however, and Hermione was disappointed.

Determination welled up and Hermione tried both _Alohomora_ as well as a _Reparo._ To her relief, the door opened without issue. On the inside, it looked like the back wall of the closet had been removed. It only showed the way to another area of the Junkyard, but it was progress. She didn't recall seeing that particular rack of old broomsticks. Hermione scorched a mark on the cabinet's interior and exterior to mark her way before heading through it.

She traveled through seven cabinets before she knew she was on the right track. Like with all of her previous obstacles, she found Jam standing conspicuously in front of another unmarked cabinet. The little goblin was glancing warily around him, his small hand plucking nervously at his ear.

Hermione lunged to trap him bodily underneath her. Behind her, the makeshift wall collapsed in on itself, showering the area with junk. The endless rumble told her that she had destroyed any chances of backtracking. Jam screeched his head off.

“Oh shut it,” Hermione scowled. “You cost me who knows how long with that peach of yours.”

The irate witch had heard two additional bell tolls since she woke up from her dream. Altogether, she had already used up _at least_ six hours of her thirteen. She had no idea how long the induced sleep had stolen from her on top of that. She assumed it had to have been another two hours because she had felt well-rested when she woke. That left her an estimated five hours before her fate was sealed.

Jam cried, “Jam didn't mean to. Labyrinth said it was a gift. Jam didn't know it was gift to King and not to pretty lady. Peach was supposed to be tasty and _safe_.” His eyes watered in remorse.

Hermione had no idea why she was being moved by his charade. She reminded herself of the whole Gringotts fiasco. Goblins were master manipulators and liars. She needed to get a grip on herself.

Hermione set the goblin to the side and wove an _Incarcerous_ on him. Wandless magic was becoming easier and easier to perform. It just didn't seem to work on the Labyrinth's fixtures.

She turned back to the cabinet Jam had been in front of, but the little goblin screamed, “Don't open that!” Shocked by the sheer terror in his voice, Hermione turned questioningly back to Jam.

“Why not? What's on the other side?”

“Bad things,” Jam wept, “Bad people. Don't go this way.”

Hermione sighed, “Does this way lead to town Jam?”

The little goblin scrunched up his face and said nothing.

“I only have so much time left. Whatever it is, I'll handle it. Just... just stay here OK? You don't want to be in trouble with the King right? You will be if you try to follow me.”

Jam wailed incoherently but Hermione would not be persuaded. She gripped the handle and pulled it open easily. This one hadn't needed to be unlocked or repaired. Behind it was pitch black darkness, more reminiscent of a real Vanishing Cabinet. Hermione hesitated only for a moment to conjure bluebell flames before stepping through.

Before the door closed, Hermione turned her head back with a vague intention of bidding goodbye to Jam. Despite his protests, he _had_ been instrumental to her progress. But instead of the little critter she was expecting, Hermione glimpsed a desolate black-haired, brown-eyed little boy looking back at her with sad, sad eyes.

“James!” Hermione choked out just as the door closed in her face. She reached out and found only air. There was no going back.

* * *

Harry frowned when a dejected Jam reappeared next to him. The goblin curled up at his father's feet and sniffled. Harry pulled the tiny figure into his arms.

“Pretty lady went to Bog,” James snuffled after a while.

Harry sighed, “I told you to stay away from her Jam. I can't watch when you're next to her.” Something about James's relationship with the Labyrinth seemed to always make his viewing crystals malfunction.

Though to be fair to James, Harry had also been forced to handle some urgent paperwork and missed the latest debacle. It was his penance for skiving off to join Hermione in her dreams as it were. He had only been vaguely aware of Hermione's progress because he had been occulating in order to concentrate. He found it worked better than earplugs.

“But I miss her,” James pouted.

Harry froze. “You remember who she is?” he asked. His heart was caught in his throat, blood rushing to his ears. "Do you remember _who I am_?"

James shrugged and plucked unhappily at his own hair. He neither acknowledged nor denied his returned memories.

“You could have watched her here with me,” Harry tried instead.

“It's not the same,” the little boy turned goblin sulked.

Harry carefully tousled his son's hair. The goblin leaned into the caress, “Go back to your lessons. You don't want Hermione to find out you were skipping class do you?” James's cheeks puffed up, “Don't tell and My-me won't know.” Harry could have cried at the confirmation. But he schooled his expression into a stern one and the little goblin prince winced at the sight before climbing down from Harry's arms. He dragged his feet as he left to attend his magic lessons.

When James was out of sight, Harry gave in to his tears. His son was remembering. He was _years_ ahead of schedule. Even as Harry wept, the Fae in him also wanted to jump and dance with joy.

Instead, Harry conjured another crystal. How he wished he could have shared this moment with Hermione. His witch was over nine hours into her Labyrinth run. All things considered, she was making very good progress. The Bog of Eternal Nightmares was the second to last major obstacle she had to conquer.

His smile disappeared and Harry watched with an anxious tick in his jaw when Hermione confronted the shade of Ginny Weasley.


	13. Friends and Foes

Sarah was tense with suspicion. Her second trip through the hedged maze was turning out to be way too easy.

There was no long, endless corridor. No talking worm to misdirect her. No trap doors. No oubliettes. She hadn't seen a hide or hair of any Labyrinth inhabitant she had encountered before, nor any of the proclaimed lesser Fae that Luna had warned her about. Jareth certainly hadn't turned up to taunt her.

Instead, her feet seemed to know exactly where to go, leading her through the puzzle at a clip pace.

She knew she wasn't supposed to look at a horse's gift in the mouth, but every step forward only ramped up her anxiety. Sarah still didn't know what Jareth had in store for her, if not a less friendly jaunt through the Labyrinth. Her impressions of the blond Fae hadn't been friendly. She had destroyed his castle for Pete's sake.

Sarah forced herself to slow down. She needed to think and not just go headfirst like she usually did. What could she offer him? Certainly not Toby. She hadn't seen her little brother in almost a decade. While it hurt to think the little boy might no longer even remember her, she was hardly going to forsake it in favor of Hermione. She could offer to re-run the labyrinth for Hermione? Maybe go on some quest to do something for him... She could make a good gopher. Or jester maybe. Ugh, she could only hope he was even open to making a deal.

Sounds filtered from up ahead, distracting her from her thoughts. Someone was headed in her direction. Sarah's head whipped side to side for a place to hide but was too late.

A lumbering shadow spread into the corridor. “Sawah, fwend!” Ludo boomed.

Sarah shrieked involuntarily at the surprise greeting. “Ludo!” she yelled back.

The lovable orange beast lumbered over to give Sarah a bone-crushing hug. “Ooof, gentler please Ludo!” His grip lessened and Sarah took in a large breath. “What are you doing here?”

“Ludo here for fwend Sarah. Go to castle with you.” Sarah blinked, hating the suspicion that rose up automatically in her heart, before softening at the sight of Ludo's eager puppy eyes, “Thank you Ludo.” The gentle giant _was_ a trustworthy companion. Sarah's confidence was bolstered with him at her side. She wished Sir Didymus and Hoggle were here as well, but one was better than none.

With a friend in hand, Sarah went back to marching through the Labyrinth and towards the Castle at its center.

* * *

Hermione flicked her wrist so her bluebell flames would hang farther ahead to light the way. Her mind was still stuck back in the Junkyard of Hidden Things.

Jam was James. Harry had said he turned him into a goblin, but Hermione never thought she would actually come across him. Though now that she _knew_ , she could have throttled Harry. The bastard had used his son to string her along the entire time. Gone, my arse.

What was the point of all of this? Why the games?

Hermione stomped onward. The flames couldn't illuminate much more than a foot into the darkness. But at least there were no walls anymore, just a well-traveled dirt road that Hermione did her best to follow.

The only change in scenery Hermione experienced was the harrowing sight of a bottomless ravine and a single long bridge to cross it. Said structure was rickety and wooden—the witch grimaced. The entire set-up was like right out of her damn nightmares.

She took a shaky breath before stepping onto the first plank. She cursed when it swayed immediately despite there being no perceivable wind. At least there were handrails, as flimsy as they were. She resolved not to look down lest she never make it across. Her eyes kept closing off in terror with each step she took as it was.

Hermione was _not_ prepared for the random appearance of a gaunt Ginny Weasley standing in the middle of the bridge after she opened her shuttered eyes. Like an ominous warning, another bell tolled.

Hermione tensed, both hands gripping the old rope handrails on either side of the bridge with a death grip. “What are you doing here Ginny?” She couldn't actually be here, right?

Dull brown eyes blinked twice before a spark of life finally appeared. “Hermione,” the redhead greeted, “Welcome to my hell. Or is it your hell? It's hard to tell anymore.”

“What happened to you Ginny?”

“Aside from the obvious?” she asked bitterly, “Your Saint Potter put me here is what happened. Left me here to rot he did. So much for being the love of his life.”

“He did love you. If only you had just talked to him Ginny. Both of you could have fixed things! You should have never kept it from him. _I_ should have never kept it from him.”

“Oh get off your pretentious arse Hermione. Harry wouldn't have appreciated the truth now any more than he would have back then. He should have been bloody thankful I kept the truth from him. I let him live in his perfect little family fantasy for as long as I could.”

Hermione snarled, “It wouldn't have been a fantasy if you just told him the truth from the beginning. Taken the help properly instead of only just going through the motions.”

Ginny laughed, the sound painfully high and sardonic. “Yeah sure, why not! I'd just go tell our one and only Savior that his perfect Weasley wife developed a bloody drinking problem because her big brother was dead. Only he was one of many, wasn't he? Just another name. Another death. Another day. Another drink. If it weren't for Ron, I'd have gladly have offed myself and saved you all the trouble.” Hermione screamed when the crazy witch shook the entire bridge when her entire body swung wildly as she was going to give a toast. Ginny let out an expletive when she found she had no drink in hand.

“Poor Fred. Poor Harry. Poor Ginny,” she sang mournfully. She sat down on the bridge without a care in the world and started braiding her hair, her eyes staring blankly into the abyss.

Hermione could only feel a wave of pity for the deranged witch. She tried helping the once vibrant witch on her own terms and failed. Hermione couldn't help but feel responsible for the snowball of lies that happened afterward. Hermione thought back to when she first realized Ginny was having trouble.

* * *

_**~ Eight Years Ago ~** _

Hermione tapped recently wedded Mrs. Potter on the shoulder, “Ginny, can I talk to you for a minute in the other room please?”

Ginny giggled and excused herself from her Quidditch teammates. She glomped Hermione's arm, “Of course! Anything for the brightest witch of the century!” She took another swig of her drink as Hermione led them upstairs to the guest bedroom of the cottage.

As Hermione had hoped, the room was empty; all of the former Order members and their families were still mingling downstairs to celebrate the First Anniversary of the war. She waved her wand to silence the room.

Sobering up a little at her unexpected action, Ginny eyed her warily, “What's going on Hermione?”

“I've noticed you've been drinking a lot lately... Is there something wrong Ginny?”

Ginny shrugged, “Of course not,” She perched herself on top of a couch's backrest. “I'm just celebrating. Voldemort dropped dead a year ago today. You'd think even the great Hermione Granger would be toasting to that. Plus we're doubly celebrating Victoire's birthday _and_ Holyhead Harpies' first win against Puddlemere. All perfectly le-legitimate reasons to be drinking lots to!”

Hermione didn't buy it, “Except you've had nearly six glasses since you arrived thirty minutes ago.”

“I have a high tolerance because of the Harpy after-parties OK? It takes more to get me tipsy.” Ginny switched tracks, “Have you literally just been staring at me for thirty minutes? Creepy much?”

Hermione persisted, “Look, I'm just trying to look out for you. Harry mentioned you've been out of sorts lately.” His request for Hermione to intervene was unspoken.

Ginny sneered, “Of course. I should have known. Well, tell _my husband_ that I don't appreciate him siccing his attack dog on me. He should have asked me himself.”

A frown settled on Hermione's features before it turned pleading, “For the record, I told him _exactly_ that. But he thought it would be less offensive coming from me in case it was due to your menses or something. Also told him that was a horrible excuse by the way. Though, after seeing you tonight, I'm actually really worried Ginny. I know we aren't as close as we used to be, but you can talk to me. I can help.”

The redhead downed the rest of her firewhiskey in defiance, “Don't bother. Everything's just peachy.” She rose up, clearly done with the conversation. However, she didn't notice the snag on the carpet and tripped, face on track to meet the floor first. Hermione gasped, her hands automatically reaching out to try to catch her even though she was too far away. The redhead thankfully caught herself with one hand, the other one curled protectively against her stomach.

Hermione froze. “Are you... pregnant Ginny?!”

Ginny panicked, “How the bloody hell did you know that? I only found out last week!”

Hermione grew furious, “Do you know how dangerous and detrimental alcohol is to a growing fetus?! You have to stop Ginny! You _have_ to get help!”

“It's none of your bloody business!”

“The hell it isn't! That's Harry's kid! Ron's nephew! My future godchild! I'm not going just sit around and let you self-destruct with an innocent life involved. I'm telling Harry. Your family will get you the help you need even if you don't want mine.” Hermione whirled around to do just that.

Her hand was on the knob when Ginny broke out into a bitter laugh. “Right. You mean the people who have seen me every bloody day and still haven't noticed? I've been drinking since Fred's death. _A whole fucking year._ They don't _care_. They just want me to be their happy, adjusted little girl. Off to have fun and live the good life. Well, I'm doing that. They haven't had any real complaints so far.”

Hermione hesitated and turned back, “That's not true,” she stated firmly, “Everyone's moves on at their own pace. None of them would want this for you nor would they judge you for needing help no matter how long it's been since the war. Especially Harry. He loves you. He'll stand by you no matter what because that's just who he is.” Ginny's pale freckled face was stony.

“If it helps, all three of us sought professional help right after the war. I insisted. It really helped Ginny. Honest. That's why Harry was so ready to pick things back up with you so soon. Dr. Stillwell encouraged us to seek out what made us happy. _You_ made him happy Ginny. Give him the chance to do the same,” Hermione implored.

Ginny started to well up in tears, “Please don't tell Harry. I'll do anything.”

“I can get you in contact with our old therapist, but she might also recommend someone else who specializes in alcohol addiction. I'm sure she'll point you in the right direction.”

“If I do this, will you swear not to tell Harry?”

Hermione bit her lip, “What about the baby? You can't keep that from him.”

“I'll tell him about the baby, but I... I don't want to keep it. I'm not ready to be a mum.”

Hermione's brows furrowed in disappointment, “Harry's going to be devastated. He's going to want to know why Ginny. I don't know if he'll understand unless you tell him what you're going through.”

“NO! Just let me deal with it my way Hermione! I'll go to your stupid quacks but _Harry can't know!_ ”

Hermione flinched. Then she steeled herself, “Make an oath to me then. Make a magical oath that you'll get help and get your drinking under control. As long as you stay sober, I'll keep my oath to not say a word to Harry about your problem.”

Ginny agreed and they were bound.

_**~ End Flashback ~** _

* * *

She sighed in regret and debated whether to chance jumping over Ginny's slumped form. Her legs thought otherwise and remained stiff and uncooperative, reminding her that she was both tired and hardly athletic enough to pull it off. She drew Ginny's attention back onto herself; If Hermione was going to be stuck here, she could at least try to get some answers.

“Did you know? Did you know James wasn't Harry's? How many times Ginny? How long?”

Ginny cringed, “...I knew there was a chance. It only happened _once_. I blacked out after a victory party and when I woke up I thought it was Harry next to me. Turned out it was just a stranger that looked like him. I _obliviate-_ d him and ran.”

“Is that why you didn't want the baby?”

“No. I didn't lie. I wasn't ready for a baby! I was only 17!”

Hermione took a deep breath. “You should have told Harry the truth.” It was the wrong thing to say.

“ _Stop saying that like it would have helped!_ Harry would have divorced me instantly if he knew I cheated on him! If he knew I had a drinking problem! He's Harry bloody Potter! He could have had anyone! My family would have shit bricks and disowned me in shame!” she screeched.

“I still can't understand how you could think that would ever happen Ginny,” Hermione refuted firmly. “Yes, Harry would have been sad or angry or both—but that's _normal_. You cheated on him! You were a bloody alcoholic! But there's no way he would have just left you. Not if you tried to make amends, not if you needed him. He forgave both Ron and I before for our stupid, rash decisions. Just as we have for his.”

Ginny snarled, “Oh, rub it in my face why don't you? I was never part of your little boys' club. No one else could even come _close_ to the three of you. The rest of us had to make do with watching from afar! Even after we married, it was _still_ you, Harry, and Ron! I'm bloody surprised you three didn't just bloody start a triad!”

“I'm not going to apologize for staying close with my _best friends_ Ginny! There was nothing of that sort going on!”

“HA! Best friends my arse! Everyone knew Ron was head-over-heels in love with you! You two bloody kissed in the middle of the battle! But of course, Ron wasn't good enough for you was he? No, obviously you were waiting to get your claws into Harry. If anything, all of this is your fault! You should have kept your damn nose out of my fucking business! _Out of our marriage and out of our life!_ ” The bridge rattled dangerously with Ginny's rage.

It barely phased Hermione. She forgot about her fear, too invested in finally having it out with Ginny. “What happened between Ron and I was just a spur of the moment decision! We both agreed it wasn't anything else!”

Hermione heaved, “And don't get me started on Harry! He didn't love me like that! _I didn't love him like that!_ It's your fault that I even started seeing Harry differently! None of this would have been an issue if you didn't keep digging yourself into a hole. Do you think I _wanted_ to be in the middle of your marriage?! Fuck no! But, you made it my business when I found myself raising _your son!_ ”

Ginny's nostrils flared, her teeth bared. But Hermione wasn't done, “That boy wanted—needed a mother! _How could you just abandon him! Abandon Harry!?_ _”_ Hermione didn't want to admit she might have been projecting some of her own feelings as she screamed at Ginny.

“ _Don't mention that abomination! It's his fault I'm here in the first place!_ ” Ginny got into a crouch and launched herself at Hermione. The brunette could only squeeze her eyes shut and clutch onto the ropes with sweaty palms to brace herself. She didn't dare risk a wandless spell on this haphazardly constructed bridge.

Except Ginny flew right through her, her body nothing more than a cold wisp of angry magic. The specter who had been masquerading as Ginny wailed on its way across the bridge before vanishing into the darkness.

Hermione lowered herself down onto the still swaying bridge and sobbed. Sometime later, the eleventh bell tolled in the distance.

* * *

Harry's cradled his viewing crystal with both hands. He wished Hermione hadn't gotten this far into the Labyrinth, even if he had expected nothing less. Thankfully, his foresight meant the Bog would only touch upon Hermione's most innocent of fears and not drudge up true terrors like those from the war. Ginny's specter had been an unexpected and undesired addition. He supposed it must have been because of James.

He sighed and vanished the crystal. If anyone had bothered to ask, Harry wouldn't have wished the true Bog on anyone. He would rather deliver a clean death than the messy psychological one that came out of the Bog.

Ginny had taught him that particular lesson.

Harry had only been crowned for a mere two days when his wife got dropped back onto his lap. The castle was still adjusting to his will. _He_ was still adjusting to the whiplash of how intense Fae emotion could run.

Jareth deposited the redhead into his study room that evening as an implicit demand for Harry to deal with the situation. Apparently Ginny was still claiming to be Harry's wife, and therefore queen, to avoid making her vows to a Court.

Harry hadn't been in the mood to talk to the woman who had lied to him about James and who knew what else. His raging temper clashed violently with Ginny's own belligerency.

Before he could think twice, Harry threw her into the Labyrinth—making her his very first runner as Goblin King. He told Ginny that if she wanted so desperately to be Queen, she would have to prove herself worthy by solving the maze. Prove to him that she was more than just a liar and cheater.

The dangers of the labyrinth reflected her own darkened, angry heart, and Harry had done nothing to blunt them. It surprised him to see her get as far as the Bog, even if she had been barely in one piece when she did. She was stuck there until the last bell tolled.

In those thirteen hours, his former wife had plenty to say. Between the swearing, the screeching, and crying, Harry was confronted with his spiraling wife and her hidden struggles. She ranted about Fred's death, about the unspoken horrors of her Sixth Year when Hogwarts was under Death Eater control, about Harry's overwhelming optimism in the aftermath of the war, and of her jealousy over how everyone else seemed to have moved on just _fine_ while she was sinking deeper and deeper into despair.

She cursed Hermione and her bloody oath. An oath that only made Ginny feel more awful in the light of day when she was finally sober. She sobbed of how her hard-won recovery had been smashed into pieces when she found out her son didn't have magic. Of the overwhelming guilt of knowing that it was likely all her fault.

Ginny never made it out of the maze. Not really. Her mind was broken by the Bog and the nightmares she endured there. Harry regretted it when he was confronted with handling what was left of her. The best he could do was hand over her vegetative body to the heartbroken Weasleys. Ron never spoke to him again after that. He had already been on shaky ground because of Hermione, and then James. This was just the straw that broke the camel's back.

His ex-wife had been right, Harry should have spoken to her about his concerns instead of roping in Hermione. Looking back, he _had_ noticed the drinking but he was too caught up in trying to get his life to conform to his dreams to confront the possibility that things weren't as perfect as he was hoping them to be.

But it was all split milk at this point. He couldn't go back in time to fix things with Ginny. Nor to undo the choices he made regarding the ritual, his son, or pushing away Hermione.

Harry was tired of regret and anger. Being under the thumb of another was freeing in a lot of ways. He knew exactly where he stood and what the rules were. It made playing his part a lot easier.

As it was, Harry was on track to living a near-immortal life. He was sure Tom Riddle would have been rolling in his grave if he had one. It was a life that he had no intention of living alone. No, he had made a deal with the devil to get everything he wanted. There was no way he was going to let Hermione slip from his grasp.

Harry's magic swirled around him as he vanished in a stormy gust of wind. He had a witch to waylay.

* * *

Sarah arrived in front of two grand and imposing doors. She half expected the handles to speak, to tell her off for coming right up to the door instead of slinking off to sneak into the castle. She had contemplated doing just that—but Sarah would rather get the ball rolling than waste her energy on something that would likely provide to be futile.

No dangers on her way to the Castle meant the plot hadn't even started yet. In her mind, Sarah was sweating buckets in fear. Not that it stopped her.

Ludo pushed the heavy doors open for them and the two strode right into an impressive foyer. A grand staircase traveled up to a half-level before splitting off on the left and right, both meeting back up to an open corridor. Large and dated oil portraits hung on nearly every available space. An elaborate chandelier worked to illuminate the space.

The former Goblin King was perched on the marble railing lining the upstairs landing without a care in the world.

“Well, well, well,” the Fae greeted, “Look at what the cat dragged in.”


	14. Things Aren't Always What They Seem

The boom of the latest bell knocked Hermione out of her self-pity. She carefully picked herself back up and crossed the rest of the bridge as quickly as she could. The moment her feet touched the other side, the darkness fell away to reveal familiar green walls all around her—including behind her. The bridge and ravine disappeared as if it had all just been another dream.

Hermione had never been more glad to see the bloody hedges. She could only hope she had ended up on the right side of the maze.

Luckily, behind the first set of hedges was a small resting space. It was decorated by a number of landscaped bushes that were shaped like someone wanted to build them out of blocks of leaves. A single bench laid in the middle of the clearing for someone to sit and admire the shrubbery. Hermione was grateful for both. Stepping up on the bench, Hermione found it easy enough to climb onto the nearest bush. When she made it to the top of the tallest block, Hermione was buoyed to see the peeping tips of the Gringotts' stone dragon over the top of the hedge. She tried to use _Engorgio_ to make the bush taller to glimpse the path she needed to take, but alas the magic didn't take.

She set off again, trying to maintain a brisk walk if not an outright jog. Hermione focused most of her attention on the sky towards where she had glimpsed the bank. She was rewarded as she slowly watched the stone tips become the full bust of the dragon gargoyle. Hermione estimated she was maybe four or five layers away from the outside. She started to run when she heard yet another bell ring. She cursed again—her mouth would need a good scrubbing after this was all over. It had felt like only minutes had passed since she heard the previous bell in back in that hellish space. Hermione instinctively knew the next one would be her last.

Hermione rounded another corner and was confronted by James in the middle of the path. He was a goblin again but the mere knowledge had Hermione seeing James's shadow in every wrinkle or quirk Jam had. Some part of Hermione wanted to believe the whole thing was nothing more than a trick. A ploy to keep her from leaving.

“Please don't go My-me. Come home,” James begged. Hermione's resolve shook at the familiar address.

The little goblin started to approach her. Hermione backed away with a shake of her head.

Hermione let her guard down and found herself tripping over empty air. A hole had opened up behind her and she fell right into it. A shadow passed the opening and Hermione glimpsed Harry's pale face peering down at her instead of James's.

" _Bugger,_ " was Hermione's only thought before she blacked out.

When she came back to, she was slumped against the wall of a dark hole. He must have cushioned her landing because she was uninjured. Hermione raised her hands in front of her and tried conjuring bluebell flames again. Her magic didn't respond at all. She got up and used her hands to explore the space she was in. She was only able to take three paces forward or to the side before her hand touched a wall. Further fumbling revealed nothing on the floor or walls to help her out of her predicament.

Hermione dropped down to curl around her knees. She looked up. Stars glittered in the distance. It had turned to night and the chill was starting to get to her.

She closed her eyes. She was so tired. Whatever second wind she had gotten after leaving the darkness had come and gone.

Arms encircled her shaking form. His form was curled around hers from behind. “Harry,” Hermione said simply. For a brief moment, she leaned into the warm embrace. Once upon a time, those arms had made her feel safer than anywhere else in the world. It hurt that they still felt that way when they were really anything but. It was all his fault she was in here in the first place.

She tried to pull away, but Harry wouldn't let her go.

“Your time is almost up Hermione,” he whispered softly into her ear, “It's been over twelve hours already.”

Hermione said nothing.

“I know I scare you,” Harry confessed, “but I would never hurt you Hermione. Never. I should have listened. Taken James and run away together.” He pressed a desperate kiss against her neck, “I promise I'll make it up to you. Marry me Hermione. Let us be a family again. We've missed you so much.”

Hermione deflected, “What happened to Ginny? What did you do to her?”

“Jareth dropped her off because she was refusing to make an oath to the Courts under the pretense she was part of mine already. We argued—I hadn't seen her since the ritual and after finding out she cheated on me... I told her if she wanted to be Queen so badly, she'd have to win the game to prove herself. She got trapped in the Bog of Eternal Nightmares and never made it out.”

Hermione fell quiet, “Is she dead?”

“She went insane,” Harry said truthfully, “Her body was all that was left and I sent it back to the Weasleys.”

“It's all my fault,” Hermione whispered.

Gloved fingertips ghosted across her lips. “No, it wasn't. It was Ginny's and mine. You would have never known if I hadn't put you in that position.”

Hermione looked at him questioningly. How could he have known? Did Ron finally tell him?

“I already know. The drinking, the promise. All of it,” Harry confirmed. “She started again after she found out James's test results. Everything came out while she was running through the Labyrinth.”

She could only feel a rush of relief when the weight of the oath finally lifted.

A tear slid down her cheek, “I only did it because I didn't want her to spiral further. I would have never forgiven myself if she ended up doing something stupid because I cornered her. Not that it stopped me from meddling anyway. I left myself a loophole. The truth is, I told Ron that very night. He tried to deny it of course. But in two days, he showed back up on my doorstep because he had seen it happen himself.”

It was Harry's turn to fall mum. For a brief second, his fury rose. Why hadn't they told him then? Didn't he deserve to know?

Hermione continued, “Ginny found out soon after that. Ron was there for every appointment. He kept her on the straight and narrow, and he was the one to tell Ginny's Healer to keep an eye out for any alcohol-related issues during the pregnancy. Ginny was furious with me and I stayed away. I made Ron promise not to tell you. Not unless it was necessary.” She turned her head slightly and glimpsed his look of betrayal. She winced, “I guess he kept his promise.”

Silence filled the air of the oubliette.

“That explains a lot actually,” Harry finally said. “Ron won't talk to me anymore... But he never spits at me the way the rest of the family does.”

Another pause. Hermione sniffled.

Harry switched tracks, “I was watching over you the entire time. I heard what you said to Ginny's shade.”

Hermione's shoulders tensed. “What of it Harry?”

“...Was it true what you said? About not seeing me in _that_ way until James?”

Hermione relaxed. It was the last thing she expected him to fixate on.

“That was the truth Harry. I _maybe_ had a crush on you between Third and Fourth Year, but after that I was too busy trying to keep you and Ron alive to spare a thought about romance. As Voldemort grew stronger, I couldn't help but make contingencies for my death. Just the same as you did. Don't think I don't know you had your will written out by the end of Fifth Year. I did too, as small as my worldly possessions were at the time. And I bullied Ron into it before we ran at the start of Seventh Year. I don't think any of us really expected to survive until it was already over.”

Harry was quiet at that. "But you did love me. By the time you left."

Hermione sighed lightly, “Yes. We spent so much time together with James. How could I not?”

“We've spent longer in that tent while we were on the run.”

“Half-starved and terrified for our lives isn't exactly conducive to romance Harry. Would I have laid my life down for you? In a second. If you had asked me to marry you? I would have refused. I wasn't going to be some imaginary beacon of hope. It's partially why I turned down Ron after the battle. None of us were just going to _move on_ because Voldemort was finally dead. Not without help.”

“I thought you said it was an amicable decision,” Harry said, a frown growing at the thought of an unexpected rival.

“It was after I told him I needed to see a shrink before I would even consider it. I believe his words were, 'Blimey, I can't believe I forgot how much you overthought everything.'" Hermione mimicked. "We both never brought it back up, not even after I finished dragging both of you with me to therapy.”

“Sounds like Ron,” Harry's voice was a little wistful.

She leaned back into Harry's embrace, her head tucking itself under his chin, “What kind of future are you expecting Harry? You're already becoming like... like one of those olden creatures. No longer mortal. James is a goblin, never to grow up. And me... I don't know if I want to let go of my humanity. You've grown callous and cold. Cruel even.” Her voice was a mere whisper at the end of it.

Harry traced the soft contour of her jaw with soft, gloved fingers. “You're wrong. At least about James. I changed him to give him magic Hermione—and to keep him at my side. The Labyrinth is generous to its denizens. As a squib, he had no place within her walls. Nor within any of the Courts. He would serve no purpose and I would have had to give him up one way or another when I took an oath. But a goblin... a goblin would share in her magic. That's how all Fae children sourced from the Labyrinth start. They're all children who had been wished away to the Labyrinth. So I wished him away.”

Hermione's eyes were trained on Harry. He could see the swirl of questions reflected in their surface.

“Jareth promised me that in twenty years and a day, the transformation will be permanent. He's almost guaranteed to be blessed with magic. All squibs are. That's one of the reasons why he was invested in getting the goblins to push the ritual forward here and not some other Wizarding community. The squib children might be a bane to us, but it's the greatest boon for him and the Labyrinth. In return, I promised to be his Heir and take over any duties he didn't wish to deal with. It ends after James is fully transformed. He'll be able to take whatever form he wants to once he has control of his magic. Illusions are the Fae's bread and butter. He'll no longer be a goblin. Not really.”

Hermione's breath faltered. It sounded all too good to be true.

“I can relinquish the crown after that too. We don't have to stay like this forever. You, me, and James can go anywhere in the world after I complete my end of the bargain. Just have to be careful about the iron. Still, twenty years—not long at all compared to the rest of our lives right?”

Hermione's mind whirled with the new information.

Harry pressed a kiss to the inner side of her wrist, “Please Hermione. Come home. Take your place at my side. The Labyrinth has already approved of you when she meddled in your journey and reunited you with James. Did you know James wasn't even supposed to be able to regain his memories for another six years? Because of you, he remembers already!” Harry hugged her close, his body practically vibrating from the echo of his elation. Hermione squirmed when his grip tightened too much.

He loosened his hold and continued to pitch his dreams to Hermione, “She'll share her power once you are Goblin Queen—“ Hermione wrinkled her nose at the title and Harry laughed softly before continuing, “I can't promise you won't grow a little cruel in time, but your lifespan will match my own. And it won't be forever. Not if you don't want it to be.” Hermione flinched at how blasé Harry was about their eventual passing.

“Why didn't you just tell me all of this in the beginning?”

“I was planning to. But Jareth said the Labyrinth must have wanted to measure your worth personally first. I didn't even realize I had made the offer until it was already done. After that... I guess I got upset about how easily you vilified me about James. My rashness... stubbornness... well you know how I get. Being Fae has only made it harder to control. I'm sorry Hermione.”

“I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have run away on my own. Not like that.” She had abandoned her friends, her family, and her home with her own rash decision.

Hermione stayed quiet after that, slumped against Harry until the thirteenth bell rang.

Harry pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. Hermione vaguely registered the sensation of metal pressed upon one of her fingers.

Then they were gone, the oubliette empty once more.

* * *

“Enough games Jareth. You know why I'm here,” Sarah claimed boldly as she strode into the castle foyer. Ludo trailed her with less confidence. His hand left hers and Sarah let it go. She didn't want to put him in a more difficult position. The doors swung closed behind them with a heavy thud.

“Oh and just _who_ are you exactly? This is _my_ castle. You're certainly far too rude to be one of my subjects.”

She grit her teeth. He had to be playing with her. “It's Sarah. Sarah Williams. I'm here for Hermione you pompous fuck. Don't act like you don't know who I am.”

Mismatched eyes gleamed in amusement, “I tend not to remember brats.”

“Tell that to your goblins. They chased me right out of Gringotts the moment I said my name.”

“They're a particularly cantankerous breed of goblin. Very sensitive to thieves. You might just have that air about you. You are trespassing after all. Rather boldly at that. Besides, they're not _my_ goblins anymore.”

Sarah ignored the last bit, he would forever be the Goblin King in her mind. “They called me the Champion. Champion of _your_ little Labyrinth. Does a bratty fifteen-year-old girl beating you at your own game ring a bell?” Sarah taunted.

Sharp teeth flashed, “Not at all.”

“I forgot you were such a birdbrain. Who else would use an _owl_ to send a letter?”

Jareth laughed scornfully, “Don't look at me dear. The crude wand-wielders have been doing it for centuries! Such majestic creatures forced to do such menial work.” He shook his head as he tsk-ed mockingly.

“You're really sticking to this aren't you?” Sarah growled, “So a goblin run bank just _happened_ to offer me a fully paid trip to Europe for some stupid story commission that led me right back into your grasp?”

“News to me pet. I'm far too busy to be notified of such insignificant decisions.”

“Fine. Have it your way. I'll just be off to break down your castle again. _What a pity._ It's actually quite beautiful this time. Must have taken a lot of work to get it all fixed up after I wrecked it the last time.” Sarah turned decisively to a quiet Ludo, intent on bringing her friend and setting off to explore the first floor in search of her missing friend.

The archways near her all closed up before she could take more than two steps in either direction.

“Come now precious, did you really think I'd let you leave so soon?”

Sarah whirled back towards him, “Finally done playing the fool? Where the hell is Hermione?”

Jareth shrugged, “If you're referring to the bushy-haired witch, she was a gift to my Heir. I didn't care to keep track after I delivered it.”

“Well _un-deliver_ her. What do you want in exchange for her freedom?”

The Fae finally deigned to come closer, walking through the air as if there weren't perfectly serviceable steps below him. He stopped at the bottom to lean casually against the staircase banister. “Depends on what you're offering _Sarah._ ”

“I'll run your stupid Labyrinth again.”

“Boring,” Jareth sighed dramatically. “Besides, it'd hardly be fair. You already conquered it once. It'd hardly be a challenge.” He frowned suddenly as if he just noticed something distasteful. “ _Ugh_ , I'd forgotten how questionable your fashion tastes were precious.” He shifted uncomfortably in his overly tight pants.

Sarah glanced down at her off-shoulder blouse, capris, and sandals. “Excuse me? What the hell is wrong with what I'm wearing?!”

“Not you pet—though I _do_ appreciate this new top of yours.” Sarah shivered involuntarily, suddenly wishing she had chosen to wear a lumpy jacket and baggy pants.

Then his insinuation got to her and Sarah gaped, “Are you seriously implying I have anything to do with what _you're_ wearing?” She couldn't help but take another look at the handsome Fae dressed in tight enough pants to leave very little to the imagination. A half-opened poet's shirt was tucked into them somehow, revealing enough skin that Sarah remembered it making quite the impression on her fifteen-year-old self.

“And here I thought you had finally learned your lesson.” He tapped a gloved finger upon his chin. “Perhaps if you relinquish your power over me, we could have a far more comfortable conversation.”

“Never and doubtful. No one enjoys talking to a two-bit ponce no matter what circus outfit he puts on.” Sarah had no idea what power she held over him, but she certainly wasn't going to let it go for no reason.

“How you wound me precious. When will you stop casting me as the villain?”

“When you stop acting like one.”

“Oh come now Sarah. What have I done to deserve such a title? Did I force you to come to this country? Did I drag you by the hair back into my Labyrinth? Did I set my denizens to impede your path? What have I done that is so _villainous_?”

“You took Hermione!”

Jareth waved it away, “That's a separate matter. Unrelated to yourself. As I said, it was solely for my Heir's benefit. He's been looking for her for ages. In no way did it require you to come to her rescue. You'd think you would have the sense to stay away seeing how you've chosen to cast me. _That_ pet was your decision and your decision alone.”

Sarah's mouth flapped, unable to put into words how much he could take his bullshit and shove it. An incoherent scream was all she could manage.

The lithe blond stalked closer and Sarah refused to back away. She instead reached out to grasp Ludo's hand for reassurance again but only found air. She turned to her left towards where her friend had been standing previously. “Where's Ludo?!”

Jareth flourished his hand ambiguously, “He's right there. Surely you haven't gone blind already at your age?”

Sarah did a full 360-degree turn but still found no sign of Ludo. Just a smush-faced orange cat tucked into a loaf form. The feline's head tilted when she looked at it in bewilderment. “Ludo?” Sarah called out. The cat meowed, got up, and loped over to Sarah's feet where it rubbed its fur all over her feet.

“What did you do to him!?”

Jareth rolled his eyes, “Absolutely nothing pet. Your friend has always been a cat.”

“Bullshit! Turn him back!”

Sarah found herself pressed back against the main doors, with Jareth looming over her, “Do get off that high horse of yours. Open your eyes and _look!_ You're not in any position to make demands of _me_.”

Sarah was unable to stop her instinctive flinch at his proximity, shying as far away as she could get from him. The back of head thunked against the wood.

He studied her for a moment. Even dared to press his face against the back of her ear and take a deep inhale. Sarah froze stiffly at the feeling of his long hair brushing across her cheek and the hot breath against her skin. Her heart beat loudly in her ears.

Jareth finally leaned back with a victorious laugh, “Ah, for my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great. You, _precious_ , have no power over me." And suddenly the Fae was properly attired in dark regalia, the otherworldly garb serving to accentuate his immortality. All traces of the softness and indolence was shed from his visage. "That's much better."

Sarah paled. It was a lot harder to hold onto the semblance of courage when he finally looked like an immortal King.

She took a breath to steady her shaken nerves, “Fine. Clearly, I'm beneath your notice. Whatever. I wasn't here for you anyway _Your Majesty_. Seems I need to be having words with one Harry fucking Potter. Have a good day!” She brushed past him and stomped up the stairs towards the only remaining doorways. Ludo stretched, claws clicking on the stone floor, before bounding after her.

Jareth smirked and didn't stop her this time. He had already won half the game.


	15. Succumbing to Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: (Very) mild smut ahead.

Sarah was hopelessly lost. She didn't realize just how vast the castle was until she was forced to trek up and down an endless number of staircases and countless corridors lined with many, many rooms. Part of her was shocked to see so many classrooms in the old structure. Sarah assumed Jareth had stolen the layout from an actual school somewhere.

Oh and the staircases freaking _moved_. It hurt Sarah's head just trying to figure out which direction she was really going in. Or was going in. What she wouldn't give for a compass.

The worst part wasn't even that though. No, Sarah was on edge because Jareth had decided to tail her the entire time, all while whistling a hauntingly familiar tune.

Finally fed up, Sarah spun around with her hands on her hips, “Could you just _stop_? Why are you following me! Don't you have, I don't know, royal duties to attend to or something?!”

Jareth merely smiled, “Benefit of delegation precious. I'm quite free to do as I please now that I have an Heir.”

“Could you do as you please somewhere else?” Sarah requested through gnashed teeth.

“And miss your aimless wandering? It brings back rather fond memories if you must know. Besides, this is _my_ castle. I could hardly leave you to wander unescorted. Who knows what you'll end up doing.”

Sarah's spluttered, “How on earth is that a fond memory?”

His face appeared far too close for comfort, “Why it was the first time we met after all." He backed her up into the hallway wall, his arms coming up to box her in.

"Especially now that you're old enough to appreciate my proposals." His lips brushed her cheek.

Sarah refused to quail. "You mean just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave? Sorry I don't have to stoop so low as to need a slave to get a good _fuck_."

His eyes gleamed with lust as the crude remark. "Good—because I certainly won't be making that particular offer ever again." His face hovered before hers close enough that a deep breath would brush her lips against his lips.

"If you're done trying to intimidate me, I have places to be." Her lips answered his unspoken challenge with every word she spoke.

"I don't think I'll ever be done with you precious." Before Sarah could say anything else, his mouth descended hungrily upon hers.

Sarah froze for all of a second. Then the brash Champion threw her all into the kiss, determined to win in whatever way she could manage. She was no shirking virgin.

Jareth gripped her jaw with one hand and her waist with the other, dragging her flush against him. His mouth fought hungrily with hers as he pivoted on one foot and swept the both of them into a more appropriate setting.

Sarah didn't notice the change of scenery until she was suddenly on her back on top of a king-sized bed.

“Awfully cocky of you _Your Majesty._ ”

“Is that a compliment I hear?” Jareth murmured as he nipped and licked at her throat and down to her bared shoulders.

“You wish,” Sarah gasped as he slipped his hands under her thin blouse to stroke against her bare skin.

“Are you in the business of granting wishes now pet? What a delightful change of roles.”

Sarah shoved at him, gripping the surprisingly soft fabric of his cloak. Though it looked like fur and scales, it felt more like the finest of silks. It also had no clasps, zips, or openings. The innermost layer felt like it had been painted against his skin. “How do you even take this off?” she complained.

Jareth didn't bother to answer her, his mouth occupied with far more interesting things. Sarah blinked and the impediment was gone. her hands against muscled skin. Even his gloves were gone and Sarah shivered at the new intimacy.

He took his time to remove her own clothes, teasing her until Sarah took care of it herself. She taunted him about being clearly incapable of doing so.

No words weren't spoken after that. Only the occasional breathy moan or deep growl escaped to join the sounds of skin against skin.

When Sarah finally succumbed to her mortal weariness, Jareth tucked her against his chest and continued to stroke her skin with bare fingertips.

He nibbled around her thin wrist, leaving a shackle of purple-red bruises. “ _How you turn my world, you precious thing_ ,” he crooned. His eyes don't leave her sleeping form even as the room fell dark and dim on his command.

* * *

_**\- Somewhere else in the castle -** _

Hermione found herself back in a familiar bedroom when she opened her eyes.

For a while, she simply laid there, content to play the small spoon to Harry's bigger one. He had her left hand clutched possessively in his, both held against her heart. His other was snaked around her waist. Both hands were finally bare of his gloves and Hermione took comfort in the feeling of his warm skin against hers.

Harry's right hand came up from its perch on her waist to cup her face and turn it towards his. Their eyes met for an indeterminate amount of time.

She couldn't tell who moved first after that.

Harry was soon kissing her and she was kissing him back for the first time. He tore off her shirt easily enough, the t-shirt all but disintegrating in his hands. Her own hands fumbled and pushed to discard her jeans. Both of their socks and shoes were vanished before they tumbled onto the bed.

Left in nothing but her bra and knickers, Hermione focused on getting Harry undressed. He obliged allowing her to strip him of his shirt and shoved off his black slacks eagerly. Unlike her, he didn't stop until he was fully nude to her touch. Then he was back on top of her, hands plucking desperately at the last of her defenses.

She hissed when she felt one of her bra's underwires dug into her flesh. She shoved Harry away so she could take it off herself.

Harry crawled back on top of her afterward, unwilling to be apart for long. Instead, he continued to coax responses out of Hermione when all the witch wanted to do was blackout in fatigue. It had been a very long thirteen hours, forced naps aside.

But every time she felt close to oblivion, he would somehow draw her back; energy filling her whole being so she was begging once more underneath him, on top of him, curled against him.

She lost track of time and of the world around her.

To her surprise, Harry was the one to truly tire out first. Perhaps because he kept pumping magic into her to keep her up the entire time. He snored lightly, his arms still clutching childishly around her middle like she was his favorite teddy bear. Hermione didn't mind it so much. She took comfort that Harry still had that little bit of humanity left in him.

Hermione blinked, staring up at the canopy above her. Sarah was probably going out of her mind with worry. The captured witch had been gone at least a day if not more.

She raised her left hand and inspected the extravagant ring Harry had placed on her ring finger. She was tempted to pull it off. It reminded her of her failure. Of Harry's manipulations instead of an actual proposal. She raised her other hand to twist it round and round, right index finger tapping against the crowning jewel. It was a dark green but Hermione wasn't experienced enough to simply claim it was an emerald.

She left it be in the end. Instead, she laid her head down and resolved to deal with it later. For now, she wanted to savor this moment and sleep pleasant dreams.

* * *

When Sarah woke up, she jerked upright and cursed herself. She couldn't believe she had actually banged her childhood nemesis within hours of meeting him.

Jareth chuckled and drew her back down onto his still naked form. Sarah struggled against him, but the Fae showed zero intentions of letting go. "Why in such a rush precious? Your quarry has yet to wake either."

Sarah blinked, "They're in the castle? Just Harry or Hermione too?"

He tsk-ed. "So familiar with a man you've never met. Though I suppose as my future Queen, you would be permitted as he would be your subject to do with as you please."

Sarah sputtered, "What the hell are you talking about. I never agreed to marry you!"

"So you jump into bed with just anyone?"

"A one-night stand is hardly new for me," Sarah threw out defiantly. "How could you even think otherwise? We barely know each other."

"I know plenty enough about you pet. Though I suppose you may be at a disadvantage." He rolled her over so she was trapped underneath him again. “You may ask whatever it is you wish to know.” Lips descended to coax her into another round of sex.

Sarah wasn't so easily distracted, “Stop. I'm not doing this again. It's... morning or something right? I have a friend to find and I don't need you distracting me.” Sarah squirmed, her voice hitching when she accidentally brushed against the evidence of his reawakened desire.

She shoved at him and batted away his wandering hands. Jareth sighed dramatically before pulling away. “Always so demanding.”

She growled when she found all her clothes were missing. Before she could demand Jareth return them, warm hands caressed her exposed shoulders, trailing down to the dip of her back and flowing to hover over her hips. Cloth fitted itself around her and she soon found herself in a form-fitting dress, her feet clad in delicate heels. Her hair was neatly swept over her right shoulder, its tangles undone without a sound. "Beautiful," Jareth murmured as he placed a kiss against the still exposed expanse of skin on her left shoulder.

The delectable bastard was dressed again in a half-open poet's shirt and impossibly form fitting pants. So much for _her_ questionable tastes.

Sarah rolled her eyes, “It's pretty but impractical. I refuse to trample through this old drafty castle in a dress and heels. Gimme back my clothes!” She gave him a considering look, “Or just gimme yours.”

Jareth's eyes lidded and Sarah was suddenly in an equally half-open shirt and fitted pants. “Aren't I generous precious?” he cajoled as he stepped forward to engage with her again. Sarah whirled around and headed for the door, escaping his grasp. She pulled the door open and groaned forlornly when she was greeted with a hallway that would inevitably lead to more staircases and hallways galore.

She huffed, "I wish you would just magic us to Harry so I don't have to destroy this Castle in my attempt to find him."

Jareth's eyes widened a small fraction when the both of them were pulled into another bedroom. A still naked Hermione screamed and Harry threw a barrage of spells in their direction. Jareth reflected them while pinching the bridge of his nose in a very human manner.

"Precious, mind your words please. Now, look at what you did. You just interrupted a private moment with our subjects. Hardly a good first impression," he chided.

" _Hermione?!"_ Sarah couldn't believe her best friend had actually fallen into bed with her beau. She could swear the girl wore a chastity belt with how uninterested she had been with opposite sex in the entire time she had known her. Sarah glanced at the black-haired specimen next to her and couldn't help but whistle in appreciation. She supposed _that_ was a good enough reason.

" _Sarah!_ " Hermione squeaked, "W-what. How? Get _out!_ " She launched a pillow at her still whistling friend.

Sarah couldn't help it and laughed as she dragged an equally amused Jareth out the door.

* * *

Hermione was both mortified and confused.

"Did that just happen?"

"If you're referring to the fact that a strange woman you called Sarah along with my liege appearing in our bedroom while we're both naked, then yes."

Hermione smacked her forehead against the mattress—her pillow had been sacrificed as her projectile of choice. Then she shot up, "How did Sarah even get in here?! She's a Muggle!"

Harry frowned, "What are you talking about, she's seeped in wild magic. It's even stronger than my own."

Hermione stared at him for a long moment. Then she started to scramble up and went searching for her clothing. "Where on earth did you put my clothes!"

"Hmm, I believe I vanished them love."

Hermione glared, "Well un-vanish them! And give me my wand back."

Harry pulled her back onto his still naked chest, "What do I get if I do?"

She puffed up like a chipmunk and Harry nipped her cheek. "Harry! I need to talk to Sarah. Can you _please_ give me my clothes and wand back."

He sighed knowing there was no persuading her. He waved his hand and she was instantly dressed in a pretty red dress. A pair of comfortable flats sat on the ground to await their new owner.

"I'll be keeping your wand for a bit," he pecks her cheek. "Try to mind your temper please? Jareth's not usually forgiving. He's very old and rather petty. Like an overgrown child really."

"Reminds me of someone I know."

Harry grinned, not even bothering to refute the comparison.


	16. Negotiations and Explanations

When they exited the bedroom door, Hermione was surprised to find them stepping through the doors of the Great Hall.

Harry steered her shocked form right into her seat before taking the one next to hers.

A civilized meal was soon started between one Fae, one half-Fae, one witch, and one not-quite Muggle woman.

"So, introductions precious?" Jareth prompted Sarah.

"Er, Hermione, this is Jareth. Jareth... this is Hermione Granger my best friend." Hermione just looked back at Sarah with a 'WTF' expression written all over her face. Sarah elaborated, "He's the Goblin King, or at least he was when I first met him."

"I was a great many things when you first met me pet."

Sarah ignored him, "Now I guess he's just the King of the Labyrinth. Not really sure how it works. We weren't exactly doing much talking..." Both of Hermione's eyebrows rose as high as they could go and Sarah blushed.

"Anyway, so I wished away my brother to him when I was 16 and then I won him back. I thought it was just a dream. That's the short and simple version of it."

Hermione glanced at Harry who was already looking at her. "Well... Harry, this is Sarah Williams. We met when I was in America. Sarah this is Harry Potter, my other best friend."

"Husband you mean," Harry corrected.

"Not yet you're not. You only won the right to marry me. We hardly tied the knot." Hermione argued.

Harry waved his hand, "Semantics. It'll happen today."

Jareth snorted, "If only you were so lucky boy. You forget you're a King now. Taking a Queen means ceremony and diplomatic guests. I'd be surprised if you're married within the next year."

Hermione cut in, "Not to mention, _I_ remember our deal very clearly. I agreed to marry you if I lost, but no one said anything about _when_ I had to."

Harry's brow furrowed as he repeated the words of their deal. When he confirmed it, he groaned, "Fuck!"

He looked to Jareth but before he could plea his case, Jareth merely drawled, "I see you're still pants at wording magical oaths. I suppose there's really only so much I can do with your limited intellect." He toasted Harry mockingly with his goblet.

The irate Goblin King took a swig of his own drink, "Well at least she agreed. I doubt you're doing half as well in your own pursuit of a Queen," he challenged.

"I can still string you up over the castle _boy_. Besides, Sarah will be marrying me. I have no need to coerce her. Do I precious?"

The future Queen of the Labyrinth adopted a look of a deer-in-headlights when the attention was brought back to her. She narrowed her eyes quickly, "I'm certainly _not_ going to marry you. I've met you exactly twice. Once when I was a teenager and again for what? Two hours? So that's... a total of maybe 15 hours that we've known each other?"

"That certainly didn't stop you from falling into my bed did it?"

"Being a good lay hardly translates to being good husband material."

"It'd certainly should be a major consideration. As for everything else, we have all the time in the world to figure out."

“You wish.”

“Oh but I do,” Jareth smiled toothily. Sarah gripped her silver butter knife and looked like she was seriously contemplating whether she could get away with stabbing him with it.

Harry and Hermione watched the verbal ping-pong continue for several more minutes with amusement. Harry didn't bother to hide his sniggering as Sarah flayed the ancient Fae with exactly where he could shove his ridiculous proposal. Hermione did her best but snorts kept escaping.

“Enough of the foreplay dear. Tell me _Hermione_ ,” the Fae suddenly lost all signs of his playfulness and turned to the startled brown-haired witch who hiccuped trying to abort her latest snort of disbelief, “I've been hearing quite a lot about you in the last four years. Seems like everyone has something to say about you.”

Hermione tensed, thinking of her past experiences with the Wizarding World rumor mill. Harry clasped her hand with his in a sign of solidarity.

Jareth's gaze was predatory as he laid out his impression of her. “My Above goblins says you're a thief—an unrepentant upstart who caused immeasurable damage to their institution. A stupid chit who can't see beyond her own nose. Easily taken advantage of in her quest to be _good._ ” Hermione bared her teeth at him. Jareth continued without pause, “My Heir, of course, sings your praises as if you had hung the moon in the sky. His own Heir frequently dreams of your shadow. My would-have-been Heiress claims you are the brightest of your whole nation.”

Hermione blinked at the last part. She wondered who he was referring to.

“I suppose you _were_ the only one with any self-preservation seeing how you fled before your fellow comrades opened the door to their doom.” Jareth's fingers tapped slowly on his goblet in contemplation.

“Tell me. How would you like to be my new Heiress?” Jareth's eyes gleamed in amusement as Harry spat out his sip of wine all over the remaining dishes and Hermione just gaped. “We won't need to discard Harry entirely of course. I put far too much work in him to set him loose. But I'm sure he'll make a lovely if decorative Consort. Until you choose otherwise. I just insist you keep his Heir for your own. He has shown much more potential.”

“What the fuck Jareth!” Harry scowled, “We had a deal.” He quickly cleaned up the spoiled food on the table with an angry wave of his hand.

The High King shrugged, “Yes, but twenty years is a mere blink of time for me. Once young James is fully Fae, the deal will have been upheld. After that James is free to make his oaths without his father's interference.” Jareth smirked gloatingly. He was confident who James would choose to follow in the end.

Harry flushed red, ready to blow up, but Hermione squeezed his hand. She would deal with this.

“And why would I take up a position that you so carelessly toss around? Who's to say I wouldn't rather take Harry and James and run off into the sunset the moment his deal with you is over?” Hermione's Slytherin side reared its head. “As you said, I have a turbulent relationship with the goblins. Quite frankly, I think they're a bunch of shitty, materialistic creatures who we'd all be better off without. Why the hell would I want to be their Queen?”

“Why—to lord over them of course. Who better to put them in their place than the very witch they look down on? Besides if Harry gets his way, you'd be their queen regardless of whether you're my Heiress or not. Do you think you'll be able to resist sticking your nose into their business once you have the authority? Will you be content with a mere decade and a half to uproot centuries of bigotry and bad mannerisms? Such a task has been your dream since you were a child—I would know.”

Hermione paused as her imagination ran with the idea. They were in need of a major overhaul...

Harry simply slouched and laid his head on her shoulder. “I guess I'll leave it to you then love. You always were the better politician.”

Hermione flushed, “Wha—I haven't said yes.”

“But you want to. It's OK. I can assure you that the paperwork will not be missed. I don't care whether we go or stay as long as James and I can remain by your side.” His grip on her hand tightened a little.

Hermione pressed a soft kiss on Harry's head to reassure him before pursuing her mouth and leveling an ambitious look at the Fae King across the table. She got ready for a long negotiation. “I'll need a number of concessions before I even begin to consider your offer Your Majesty.”

Jareth smiled in delight, “But of course.” He shot a look of amusement at Harry who pointedly looked away. Harry already knew he should have better thought out their own deal. But like many of his decisions, he didn't realize it until it was already done.

* * *

Sarah could only watch in fascination as the two bartered over _everything_ from how long Hermione would hold the position to what kind of autonomy she would retain after she 'retired'. The witch demanded concession after concession and Jareth countered each and every one with addendums of his own. Halfway through, Harry left to retrieve his son so he could have something to distract himself with. The soon-to-be-former Goblin King was far more interested in making his goblin son call him Dad.

Sarah smiled when she was finally introduced. She could easily see herself developing a soft spot for the precocious tyke. Goblin as he was physically, the way James spoke brought back fond memories of Toby—at least when he wasn't in his terrible twos anyway. She couldn't believe he wasn't actually Hermione's son when he dared to pipe up and offer his own two cents in the still ongoing battle between Hermione and Jareth. Both indulged him and laid out another item on the list to haggle over.

And yes, there was a list. One that magically got longer and longer in order to fit everything Hermione and Jareth decided on. Harry gave up any pretense of being interested, conjured a couch, and proceeded to nap on it.

At some point, James joined him, curling up on top of his father's feet like a cat. When he woke, the goblin came up to her to demand stories of America from his new Aunt Sarah. She indulged him with the best of her storyteller abilities.

Sarah was hungry again by the time the two monarchs were ready to sign their names. The final parchment was taller than she was.

* * *

Hermione was rather eager to start her new duties when it was all said and done. She certainly couldn't wait to relish the look of utter horror that would spread across Ragnok and Doggrot's faces when they had to receive her as their new Queen. But alas, it wouldn't come into fruition until Jareth's previous bargain with Harry was fulfilled. Not unless she chose to marry Harry sooner anyway.

But there was still one more thing she wanted to clarify. Now that she was twice bound to becoming quasi-family to the blond Fae, she hoped he would be generous enough to share.

“You knew the ritual wouldn't work but you had the goblins push it to us anyway. Was it all really just a means to get the gate open? For what? Our children? Access to the Above?”

Jareth toyed with a crystal. Hermione noted he often did it when he was mulling over something.

“It served a number of purposes. Some of which you've listed, plenty of which you haven't—I've lived long enough to find a certain _satisfaction_ with knocking out multiple goals with one move as it were.” He tapped rhythmically at his crystal.

“I needed a way to remind the Above of our true existence. The mortal world had inundated itself with far too many fabricated versions in the last century of so, burying the truth in their ever-growing tangle of science, fiction, and fantasies. Fewer and fewer children were being wished away to the Labyrinth, sapping her of her true strength. Sarah here was the last runner I've had and the first to win in ages. All of the other Champions have long become dust and bone.” He paused to look exasperatingly at Sarah whose attention was on a fussing James.

“The Underground had also become too stagnant, a forgotten relic eroding with time when it had once been the birthplace of chaos. Just as your enclave had settled into a little utopia, so did we. Neither situation was conducive for Magic's blessing. Though my people have always had small numbers, far too many have chosen to pass into the oblivion while the rest had no desire to intermingle with those that were left. I wished to stir my remaining brethren from their ennui. The mortal realm had always been a good distraction.” He smiled toothily. Hermione's left eye twitched. She had a feeling Sarah had fallen under that particular excuse.

Her answer was buried in his response. Hermione figured it out a moment later, “...So our children are being born without magic because some higher power doesn't think we need them? To be magical I mean.”

“That's the sum of it yes.”

“But there haven't been any issues in the other Wizarding nations.”

“Then enough death and mayhem is still seeded in those areas to keep Magic invested. There's no clear threshold.” Jareth leaned back into his chair. “It's hardly the end of the world. Though your children may not practice the art, they still hold the potential and will continue to hold the potential for many, many generations. When the need arises, so will Magic.”

“But Harry is somehow becoming Fae. James was blessed by Magic after becoming a goblin. How does that work in the context of this whole theory?”

“We've long since discovered loopholes. Magic makes allowances under the right circumstances. The Labyrinth, for example, has always been a source of new Fae children for millennia—not born but made. She has the unique position of being able to harness promises and dreams. An often overlooked source of magic as it were..." Jareth trailed off a bit, his eyes going distant.

Hermione cleared her throat to drag the Fae's attention back.

Jareth shrugged, "She's not without limitations though. It is only really possible to convert the very young when they're still full of promise. In Harry's case, however, I've long been due for an Heir to share in my duties. More so now that I've brought part of the Labyrinth to the surface and started this little sphere of influence. Consider her... super-charged from the journey. Harry was just lucky to be there at the right time and place.”

“...Sounds like the driving force of his entire life story,” Hermione sighed.

They both turn to observe their significant others. Harry was deep asleep on a couch. Sarah was entertaining James with an animated story with pitched voices and hand gestures. James looked like he was having a blast.

"What about Sarah then?"

"The Labyrinth chose Sarah on her own. She was gifted without my consent if you must know. It was quite the coup. Though I suppose she _might_ have had magical potential already. Who knows?"

Hermione turned back towards Sarah and James and wondered what it would have been like if Sarah had been a witch all along.

As if he had felt her gaze on him, the little goblin turned away from Sarah to gift Hermione a wide smile, “My-me done?”

“Yes sweetheart,” Hermione scooted her chair backward so the scamp would climb onto her lap.

“I'm hungry. Can we have lunch?”

Hermione glanced at where Jareth had been and found him missing. Apparently, he had decided it was a perfect time to resume accosting Sarah again. She left them to it. Instead, she picked up James and headed over to the sofa to wake up Harry instead.

“Harry?” She shook him gently.

“Mhmm...” The lazy bum rolled over. James tugged a little too hard at Hermione's curls. She winced but set him down.

Harry yelped when James bit down on his ear to wake him up. Hermione sniggered.

“Dammit James, what did I tell you about biting me?”

“Not to do it,” James answered impishly. “But I'm hungry. And you looked delicious.”

Harry grumbled, rubbing at his abused appendage. He waved his hand and a plate of sandwiches appeared. James tackled it with enthusiasm.

Hermione picked one of them up and quirked a questioning eyebrow at the simple filling choice.

Harry caught sight of her expression and smiled a little guilty, “What can I say, the boy loves his jam.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, not even bothering to chide him for failing to provide a proper diet for his growing boy.

* * *

“Where's Hoggle anyway?” Sarah asked out of the blue as the quartet settled in for their second meal of the day. Or night. She wasn't entirely sure what time it actually was. James had scuttled off to who knows where after he had finished devouring his sandwiches.

Jareth froze up for a split second, “Performing his duties no doubt.”

“Wasn't he supposed to keep people out of the Labyrinth? I didn't see a soul in my path until Ludo.”

“He was moved along with countless other things during your second foray into the Labyrinth. Have you truly not noticed yet? How your will, your wishes, and your desires contort the world around you?”

“...I know things should have changed with my age and perception. I was expecting more, not less, obstacles though. Besides Sir Didymus didn't change. Neither did Ludo until I saw you again.”

“While I do confess I had a hand with setting that particular version of Sir Didymus in your path, Ludo was all on you. He actually is a cat you know. The longest-lived one no doubt. He wandered into the Labyrinth's domain a great many years ago.”

Sarah opened her mouth to protest. Surely there was no way.

“Sir Didymus is hardly a terrier, though he's usually as loyal as a dog. I've never had to worry about his allegiance until you precious.” Jareth shot her a piqued look. “He was willing to suffer the childish glamour to set you at ease. Hogwarts on the other hand—“

“You mean _Hoggle_.”

Jareth waved his hand in a whatever fashion. “Hogell can't be trusted. He remains as ugly as you remembered him to be. I had him reassigned to the Bog. Should be grateful, he gets to play knight until Sir Didymus comes back from the Garden.”

“...You threw him in there and forgot about him didn't you!” Sarah accused.

Jareth smiled angelically, “Of course not.”

“And you wonder why I wouldn't want to marry you!”

“If you want him reassigned, you'll have to marry me for the authority precious.”

“Not worth it. I'll just get him out myself.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks of amusement as the two went at it again. The two snuck out of the room so Harry could show her the castle properly. Harry held onto Hermione's hand the entire time.

* * *

“So pet, what do you say?”

“For the zillionth time NO! And stop calling me that! It's degrading! Besides, I still have a story to research and write. And you stole a whole two days from me you jerk!”

“Contrary to your belief, I can only control time within the confines of the maze. Considering I practically rolled out the red carpet for you, I probably saved you a day's journey instead.”

Sarah huffed, “Details. Either way, I have to go back to America in five days. A long-distance relationship is hard enough with two regular people. Much less whatever _this_ would be.”

“I can't say it's a delight how you pick and chose when to remember how powerful I am. I don't need an invitation anymore precious. And I'm not one to give up. Perhaps it was time to look into real estate in the States.”

Sarah blanched. “Look, if you want to date me—“

Jareth's lips curled, “Nothing so plebeian precious. Call it courting if you must.”

Cue eye-roll. “Fine, if you plan on _courting_ me, we do this on my terms.”

“But of course.”

“No funny business unless _I_ initiate it. Keep your hands to yourself mister. And you have to tell me why my wishes keep working. I'm not a witch am I?”

“Not in the same sense as the wand-wielders no. But you were granted certain powers by the Labyrinth. Right now, it's more like you're borrowing magic from the Labyrinth and I. If you want to nurture your gift, you'll have to do it within the Labyrinth's walls.”

“Fine. Another condition, I want to learn magic,” Sarah couldn't keep the eagerness out of her voice. She reasoned if she was going to embark on this hazardous relationship, she had to at least try to even the odds.

“Done and done. Now, I suppose I should leave you to your... work. But perhaps, I can be of assistance? I'm sure I can dredge up a boggart or two for you precious.” He offered his hand to her.

Sarah harrumphed—at this point she wasn't even surprised he knew what she had planned on writing about. Well, she couldn't say he wasn't trying at least.

She took his hand and Jareth whisked them away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left now. I didn't really intend to make it this fluffy at the end but I couldn't seem to write it any other way. (=-=)7
> 
> Thanks to all of you who've read, commented, or kudos this!


	17. Epilogue: It's Only Forever, Not Long At All

_**Thirteen Years Later** _

“James, what _are_ you doing here? You should be in the throne room already!” Hermione scowled at her teenage Fae son.

The dark-haired, brown-eyed boy shrugged, “Sorry mum, but the wedding got called off again. Dad told me to come tell you before you headed back over.” James had exceeded all expectations when he gained full control over his form by the end of his fifteenth year instead of the expected twenty.

Hermione groaned, “Who did it this time?”

“Couldn't tell. Both of them were yelling by the time I got there.”

“Bugger.” While Hermione loved Sarah (and was moderately fond of Jareth after all these years), this whole wedding business was giving her gray hairs. An impressive feat considering she was well on her way to becoming a full-fledged Fae.

Unlike Sarah, Hermione hadn't had the heart to hold out on either Harry or James for very long. She was married by the end of the following year.

After she was crowned, she took over most of Harry's official duties. The Gringotts goblins were properly horrified of the change in royalty authority and Hermione would forever savor the memory of their faces. They had attempted to stage a coup early on, but Sarah gave Hermione an excellent suggestion that had the goblins listening in no time. Apparently, the fear of the Bog extended even to the Gringotts goblins.

Hermione was happy with how things turned out. She had a fulfilling career with at least three hundred years of service stretched out before her. She had a lovely home with both a doting husband and a brilliant son. And she finally had the opportunity to reconnect with several old friends. Namely, Ron and his wife Lavender, Luna (whose unofficial title amused her), and Sir Neville, Hannah, and their son Frank who was definitely going to be a wizard one day. She had even met the famous Sir Didymus, Ludo, and Hoggle. Hermione was particularly fond of Ludo as he reminded her keenly of Crookshanks.

Now if only her remaining best friend could get her shit together then everything would be just about perfect.

Hermione grumbled as she once again discarded her bridesmaid dress for her official Goblin Queen attire. She had a number of ruffled feathers to smooth over again and grimaced just thinking about it. She could deal with Lord Gunthik of the Dark easily enough, but she _hated_ speaking with Lord Finvarra of the Light. Not when he could talk the ear off a tree and still expect a response afterward.

* * *

“What happened this time?” Harry asked the jilted groom.

Jareth shrugged, “Sarah decided she didn't approve of my wedding attire. I may have said something unflattering back about her own wedding dress.”

Harry made a sympathetic sound. This was the second time Sarah had pulled that particular excuse. "The dress didn't survive?"

"No. Neither did my wardrobe. She's lucky the Underground citizens prefer to get paid in poultry and not gold."

Harry snorted but refrained from saying anything offensive. The constant back and forth with Sarah was wearing down Jareth enough all on its own.

It didn't help that Sarah had become a permanent fixture in the Castle. She hadn't kept a separate residence though Jareth had gifted her plenty. Their tiffs made for an awkward atmosphere in the Castle they all shared. Even James was starting to complain about it.

Hermione _had_ suggested they remain as they were since they were all but married. Sarah had seemed all for that, but Jareth was completely against it. He scolded Sarah, saying she knew the Labyrinth wouldn't understand modern relationship statuses. He warned her that the ancient maze would only register that there was still no Queen and start searching for another to crown. Neither Hermione nor Sarah brought that possibility up again.

So yes, the two Goblin monarchs were rather invested in getting their hot-tempered friends properly hitched. Preferably as soon as possible.

Harry settled in for another long afternoon of playing serving boy and therapist for his King. Jareth was slowly getting drunk on fairy wine and Harry knew better than to join him lest the missus find him sloshed again.

It left him painfully clear-headed when Jareth ran through his usual spew: he would ramble on about how cruel Sarah could be and how much he wished he could just force her onto the altar like the good old days. He then went on to bemoan whether he should just give up on Sarah and find another. Only to switch and list all the things he loved best about Sarah and why no one else would compare. It wasn't until he started singing himself to sleep that Harry knew his torture would soon end.

He eyed the fully inebriated King and wondered if Hermione would finally cave to his drunken marriage scheme. He was of the opinion that all the two needed was a quick trip to Gretna Green and then half their arguments would be null because they'd already be married.

When Jareth was finally dead to the world, it was already bedtime. Harry quietly saw himself out and back to his rooms.

* * *

“Hi love,” Harry whispered as he slid into their bed. “Did you have as long of a day as I have?”

“I thought so but apparently not,” Hermione said a little hoarsely as she sat up to greet him. “We'll switch next time. You can have Lord Finvarra and I'll take Jareth.” Harry's fingers went to work on her knotted shoulders, while a cup of chamomile tea appeared hovering before her. Hermione took it gratefully and downed the soothing liquid before vanishing it herself. Her head hit the pillow again when Harry found the perfect spot to work his magic fingers on.

“Did you speak to Sarah? Any progress on that front?” Harry asked after a few moments.

Hermione grumbled into her pillow for a bit, before lifting her head. “No, she decided to go sulk in the States this time.”

“Still think Gretna is out of the question?”

“ _Yes_. You realize you're still Heir right? There are protocols. Diplomatic relations. If you keep this up, I'm going to make you do the paperwork again.”

“Have mercy please," Harry groaned, "I still can't believe you haven't gotten rid of it all.”

“Magical contracts are best suited to physical paper or parchment... I can only cull so much,” Hermione mumbled.

He brushed a curl from her cheek, “You'd have more time to concentrate on it if Sarah and Jareth were to finally get married. No more Maid of Honor duties.”

“Tell me something I don't know. I can't even lock them into a room to duke it out. Sarah's really been going at it with her magic lessons. She'd have given me a run for my money if she had been at Hogwarts with us.”

Harry snorted in disbelief.

Hermione continued sleepily, “I might have a better idea though. I'll need your help getting it together later... Don't.. forget to... eat something..."

“Yes, Hermione. Good night love,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

* * *

Sarah was laying down on a large bed feeling rather pathetic and despondent.

She hadn't spoken to Jareth since their latest wedding fell through. She had opted to hide away in her childhood house. Her dad and Karen had sold it to split for their divorce, and somehow Jareth had gotten his hands on it, fixed it up, and gifted it to her as a courting present.

She had thanked him for the thought but hadn't actually gone to see it until now. The old Victorian stood just as she remembered it. A little bit of magic and the inside also looked just like it used to.

But the nostalgic comforts only worked to distract her for the first day. After that, Sarah just felt more homesick. For the Labyrinth that was.

Sarah rolled over to bury her head under a pillow. She had just turned forty a few months ago but Sarah was acting more and more like a teenager these days.

Jareth had tried explaining it as a side-effect of her transition. The Labyrinth was more used to converting children and was influencing Sarah with similar characteristics to make the change easier to perform. Harry had experienced similar moments, often falling into sad, angry, and broody states. Hermione, less obviously so, probably because even as a child, she had been too mature.

The thought of it had Sarah conjuring a crystal. She frowned when she saw her lover was once again staring motionlessly at the horizon. Even if he didn't blame her for her mood swings, Sarah could see her actions were impacting him significantly. She owed him at least a dozen overdue apologies.

She vanished the crystal and clapped her hands over her cheeks. It stung even with her stupidly soft gloves.

Things had been going so well since the last time she mucked up their wedding. Jareth had been affectionate, patient, and had done just about everything in his power to move the stars for her. She had been so sure that _this time_ would be the last time. All she had to do was to shut up and only speak when she had to say 'I do'.

But once again, a nameless dread took control of her mouth and before she could think twice, she found herself sticking her foot in her mouth and causing the wedding to be called off for the fifth time.

Sarah just couldn't seem to stop getting cold feet.

She knew it stemmed from her parents' turbulent marriages. Her dad had only taken Sarah with him because he hadn't wanted to pay alimony. She hadn't been surprised he made no fuss over Karen kicking her out. That he had divorced Karen later on also didn't surprise Sarah. Her father might have loved her once, but that love had faded all too soon—just like his love for his ex-wives.

Her mother hadn't been any different, her love even more distant in memory than her father's. She had gotten married and divorced multiple times according to the tabloids.

She knew that the inclination to divorce wasn't hereditary. But it set an awful precedence.

If they did get divorced, Sarah couldn't see herself capable of picking up the pieces of her life again as she had at eighteen. Though she was confident Hermione would never leave her out to dry like her parents or Karen did, Sarah would no longer be welcome within the Labyrinth and they would surely drift apart regardless. Just like she had with Toby.

But perhaps... perhaps all she needed was a good talk with someone who might understand where she was coming from.

* * *

It was strange sitting across a table from a grown-up Toby. The cafe they had chosen was close to Central Park and offered a level of anonymity that they weren't sure whether they needed.

When Sarah had left at 18, Toby had still been so young at merely 4 years old. Fast forward to today, she was looking at a man in his mid-twenties. He even kept a goatee! It such a startling time jump for both of them.

What was even stranger, however, was finding out that Toby was actually an American wizard.

Karen had cursed Sarah's name every day since Toby got his letter, even though there was no way Sarah had anything to do with it. Toby remarked that he hadn't minded it. It helped remind him that there was at least someone in the family who would have accepted his gifts.

But the whole thing definitely was the last straw for their father who soon delivered divorce papers. Karen was apocalyptic to find herself with sole custody. Problems with marrying a lawyer.

Sarah wished she could have been there for him. She tried to offer her apologies for not reaching out, but Toby stopped her firmly. It wasn't her fault. Sarah had enough troubles. Toby had at least retained a roof over his head and regular meals, even after the divorce. It was his parents that couldn't make peace with his magic, not her. Toby left the house the moment he was old enough to do so.

Toby had tried to find her then at seventeen, but Sarah seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth. Sarah told him it was because she had already been a semi-permanent resident at the Labyrinth by then. She hadn't thought anyone would have come looking for her.

It segued perfectly to Sarah's recollections of her own life. She talked a little about what she did after she left home, about meeting Hermione, and then about the Labyrinth and about Jareth. She omitted her current relationship troubles, not yet ready to share.

Toby didn't question the overall bizarreness of her story thankfully. When she was done, Sarah was eager to change the subject and to hear more about Toby's own adventures. Toby obliged.

It was far better listening to Toby talk about his happier memories of being an American wizard. Family issues aside, he had loved his time at Ilvermorny and his current work as Chief Cursebreaker at the American branch of Gringotts.

His friends and coworkers would always rib him about making history when he received the title last year. He had been chosen over pretty much all of the other qualified Cursebreakers even though he had the least experience. Toby had turned it down on the spot, but the goblins told him that they'd happily start firing the more qualified candidates if he refused. So it wasn't really much of a choice and he took the promotion. Luckily, Toby was generally well-liked and humble enough about the weird decision that the turnover hadn't been too bad. He still felt guilty about it though.

Toby was a little wry when he said, "I wondered why they did it. It was so out of character. I suppose it has something to do with my time in the Labyrinth?"

"Probably. You carry the Labyrinth's favor in your aura. Hmm... it's akin to having their King's stamp of approval. They would consider you the most trustworthy employee even among other goblins."

"Wow," was Toby's only reply.

He then went on to tell her about his wife of four years. She was a muggle-born like him. They had married young, both leaning on each other to figure out how to be an adult witch and wizard without the support of their Muggle families.

Toby thought they managed to do pretty well for themselves. Maria had been an assistant teacher at their alma mater and had every intention of becoming a full Professor within the next five to ten years.

When Sarah asked her why she stopped, Toby grinned and sprung his biggest news of all. Maria Williams was pregnant with their first child and was due any day now. Toby couldn't wait to introduce Sarah to them one day.

He hesitated a little afterward, but Sarah placed her hand over his before he could take the words back, "Of course I want to meet her. You can tell her the truth if it's easier. I don't mind."

"One day then?" he asked.

"Why not today? Unless you have other plans," was her response. Toby just nodded eagerly and practically dragged her into the next alleyway to apparate them back to his house.

And so Sarah met her new sister-in-law that same day. Maria was a redhead with a light Irish accent and gushed over the fact that she was meeting an actual Fae. She was nothing at all like what Sarah had expected. But Mrs. Williams was kind, heavily pregnant, and very much in love with Toby. And Sarah supposed that was good enough for her.

Seeing them together like this... it was the balm Sarah didn't know she needed.

Sarah said her goodbyes late that night. She blessed Toby and his wife, weaving old runes around his home for protection and good luck. She bid Maria a safe delivery.

When she looked to the sky outside of Toby's quaint townhouse, Sarah felt her doubts finally lift from her shoulders.

Sarah spun on her heel and reappeared in her old childhood home. She snapped her fingers and the house was tidied up, white sheets once again covering the furniture. She closed her eyes briefly to picture the beautiful view of the Castle Beyond the Labyrinth. Then she opened her bedroom door to go home. She had been away long enough.

* * *

Hermione let out a breath of relief. Sarah had shown up for breakfast today as if she hadn't been MIA for two weeks and a half. Sarah conversed with James enthusiastically, asking about everything and anything she missed during her time away. James was more than eager to share.

Jareth was still noticeably missing.

Hermione shared a look with her husband. He nodded and excused himself. Hermione hoped everyone was willing to play ball. If everything went well, this whole situation would be resolved by tonight.

* * *

Sarah woke up confused. For one, she was clad in a lovely white gown that she couldn't remember ever owning or putting on. Second, she was at a masquerade ball and she had no idea how she got here or what it was for.

Something bubbled in her veins. She had to find someone. Who—she wasn't sure. Only that she would know once she saw him.

Sarah searched the room, curtsying without thought as many of the guests offered her their congratulations and well-wishes. What were they congratulating her on? She stumbled onward in her daze.

A brunette whose face was covered in a lion's mask took her elbow and guided Sarah to a raised dais.

There stood a tall, blond fellow whose face was covered in an owl's mask. He offered his hand and Sarah took it, barely noticing the brunette stepping off the platform and into the arms of another donning a stag's mask. She was swept into a dance soon after.

“Hello precious,” a familiar lyrical voice greeted. Sarah blinked thrice. The world was still a little fuzzy around the edges. “Hello,” she greeted back with a tinge of confusion. “Who are you again?”

“Must you wound me with your words every time we meet? I'm your betrothed remember? Or is that no longer the case?”

Sarah felt overwhelmingly sad all of a sudden, “Of course you are. I'm sorry Jareth—“ She paused as the veil on her mind finally lifted, “—I didn't mean to run away.”

“Then why did you? There's no labyrinth to solve. No villain to escape. I thought we were past all of this.” His tone was laced with frustration.

“I was scared,” the words slipped out from her before Sarah could overthink.

Jareth's grip loosened, his body coming to an abrupt stop. “Of me?”

“No!” Sarah cried, “I'm scared of what would change. I...I'm afraid of being abandoned when I'm finally in your grasp. We fight all the time Jareth. And not just over the wedding. I'm afraid you've only forgiven me so far because you want to marry me. And once that's done... We're still going to fight. We're both too pigheaded not to. And I don't want to _lose this_. So I lashed out again. I'm sorry.” She looked away, ashamed to admit her insecurities.

Jareth didn't respond at first. He simply started to resume their dance. “Sarah... The whole point of this is to prove I'm not going anywhere. If I only wanted something temporary, I would have never offered in the first place. You're already in my bed after all.” Sarah glared half-heartedly at him.

Jareth tutted before continuing, “I'm not expecting you to roll over after marriage—not like Harry has for Hermione. I certainly hope you weren't expecting anything of the sort from _me_. Not to mention this marriage has a third party involved—the Labyrinth will not allow divorce for any reason other than betrayal. And if that were to happen, I'm sure neither of us would be interested in divorce. We'd go straight for murder. So stop worrying your pretty little head that this might end on some whim. Mine or yours."

Sarah scowled at his highhandedness. She had done her best to cure him of his condescending ways over the years, but it was still an uphill battle. But she supposed the effect was necessary to get his point across.

He simply sniffed, "Besides, marriage is hardly the reason why I end up forgiving you for our little spats Sarah. Or inciting them,” Jareth smiled toothily. It drew an indignant huff from Sarah.

They continued to dance for an indeterminate amount of time and Sarah was starting to get tired.

"...I saw Toby for the first time in years," Sarah finally whispered. "He's all grown up now. I almost couldn't believe it when he told me he was a wizard _and_ married for four years already. They're going to have a baby soon. I'm going to be an Auntie twice-over."

"This is good news no?"

"Yes, it is. And it helped a lot. I wished—I want that for us too. One day." If Toby could manage it, surely she could too.

"All you have to do is say the words."

“Will you marry me Jareth? Like right now? Before I do or say something stupid again?” she asked as her answer. "We can do it later again with the right guests, but maybe if we could get the oaths done now, I won't—" Jareth shushed her.

“Of course precious. Lucky for you, that's why we're here. Guests and all.”

Sarah blinked. She _had_ completely forgotten the strange circumstances she had woken up to. “I thought this was just our dream. You slip into them so often...”

“It is. And it isn't. Blame those two meddling kids. If it were anyone else, I would have eviscerated them for daring to meddle with _my_ dreams.”

“They orchestrated this? Put us in a dream like with the peach?”

“And invited the entirety of the Courts to witness it.” Sarah swept a look across the ballroom and could see their guests had removed their masks. All of the Light and Dark Court emissaries were present, including both of their Kings. Sarah could spot Sir Didymus with Ludo in his arms. A scruffy Hoggle had cleaned up for the occasion and stood awkwardly next to them. Luna, Ron, Lavender, Neville, Hannah, and their son all stood close by as well. Harry, Hermione, and James were standing the closest, waiting on the side; James had a cushion in hand with their wedding rings upon them.

Sarah started to tear up. Familiar fingers brushed them away. “None of that. It's time.” Jareth's mask had been discarded as well.

“Okay,” Sarah consented.

The two turned towards their waiting company. Sarah gave Hermione a happy if put-upon smile and gestured for James to come up with his treasures. The antsy boy all but jumped onto the dais. Hermione and Harry went up at a more sedate pace and were then joined by both the Light and Dark Court Kings.

It only took a second to make it official, the right words finally tumbling out of Sarah's mouth. A simple exchange of rings. A crown of stars placed on her head. A round of applause.

The dream faded and Sarah woke up in Jareth's arms, ring on her finger. Her new husband was singing against Sarah's ear, “...It's only forever. Not long at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! I hope you all enjoyed it. Thank you for reading ♥

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to either Harry Potter or Labyrinth (1986). Both belong to their respective owners.
> 
> Please excuse any grammatical errors, I'll try to get to them as I find them. Hope you enjoyed reading (=w=)/


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